A Bang on the Head
by Mill Girl
Summary: Andrea has an unfortunate incident in the Park and loses her memory of recent events. Miranda has to persuade her all over again of how much in love they are, and that she wants to marry her. This story runs in sequence after The Making of Miranda. All my stories, apart from The Touch, follow each other in the same AU, and build on each other's characterisations and events.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1 Song of the Birds.

It was very early in the day, the light was still emerging through the dawn mists, and the many tall trees in Central Park had just begun to turn from the deep if dusty greens of late August into the golds and crimsons of autumnal colours. It had been an exceptionally hot summer, so many were losing their leaves earlier than usual. Andy Sachs paused in her three mile run, and leaned over one of the many benches which marked the pathways through the park. She had caught a stitch in her side, something she hadn't felt in a long time, and breathed deeply to ease the sudden cramping.

"Must be getting unfit," she thought to herself, and decided to redouble her morning routine of running, yoga, and, on three days a week, thirty minutes swimming in the long pool in her local sports club. For now though, she decided to take a breather, and sat down heavily on the bench.

There was a misty haze rising from the open grass areas in the park. The murmur of the traffic up and down 5th Avenue and beyond merely provided a backdrop to all the bird song which was a soundtrack for all the dog walkers, runners and joggers who made good use of this lovely park, the lungs for the Island of Manhattan.

To better enjoy the singing of the birds, which was much quieter in September than in April, Andy took off her headphones, wrapped them round her IPhone and slipped both into her pocket. The scents and sounds of the morning were just too delicious to be muffled by the beat music she used to provide a rhythm for her running. It was a chance to just be, to catch the essence of the moment, and to give thanks for the wonderful sense of rightness which pervaded her life.

She was in love, in love with a goddess in human form, who inspired her, infuriated her, (though only occasionally these days,) and invaded all her senses with an overpowering sexuality. The intensity of their relationship seemed to deepen with every passing week, and Andrea almost felt pain at times, even when she simply gazed on her Beloved's face asleep on the pillow , caught her with eyebrows raised observing her working from the side, or laughing like a youngster at some joke Andrea had cracked, or kissing and cuddling her twin daughters on the sofa in front of the TV. She loved the woman so much it hurt. She thought about her constantly.

"Miranda, Miranda, Miranda . . ." The name was like a chant in her head, calling her to prayer. No wonder she needed to escape sometimes, to run on her own, to go into the Park and listen to the birdsong. She didn't need to escape from Miranda, but she needed to re-centre herself at times, to get her mind back into balance. She had left her lover sleeping, like their girls upstairs, but knew if she wanted to be home into time to see them all through breakfast and off to school, she should complete her run forthwith.

As if on cue, her IPhone rang. Of course it was Miranda. She took it back out of her pocket, enjoying the look and the slim feel of it as ever.

"Sorry darling. I'm just checking. Are you still running?"

"Yes. I was, but I've stopped for five minutes, just for a pit-stop. I'll be home by 7.30. Do you need me to pick up some milk?"

"Yes, if you don't mind. The twins still like their cereals for breakfast and we seem to be running low. But do you have any cash or a card on you."

"Yes, no probs. What about you? I hope I didn't wake you when I left. I can't get out of the routine of having to leave early for work."

"No, me neither. I still feel I should be bustling around in double time to get everything organised for the girls before flying out of the door to Runway. But I'm getting there, gradually learning to calm down. I'm in the kitchen with the Times crossword and my first cup of coffee. Come home fast though, won't you darling? But do be careful crossing the street. "

"Yes, of course. See you in ten, fifteen minutes at the most. I love you. Bye."

Andy slipped her phone away. She didn't mind Miranda calling, nor her endless fussing about crossing the busy New York streets. Now knowing how Miranda had, as a small child, lost her own mother in a horrible traffic accident, it was completely understandable.

The IPhone, with its sapphire colored backing, reminded her of the first week she and Miranda had started their relationship. Miranda had bought it only a few days after they had first slept together, and had the young salesgirl in the Apple store set it up with her number as the only one in its contact list.

Andy almost kept it that way, but had expanded the list slightly to include each twin, her mother and Roy, Miranda's driver. But now Miranda was on sabbatical, Roy's number had been taken off the very short list of names. Of course Andrea had a second phone with almost a hundred contacts, but that one was sitting on her desk in the town house.

She stood up, stretched out her calf muscles against the bench seat, and resumed her run. The stitch had evaporated and she breathed deeply and regularly as she gathered pace. Central Park was such a benign and beautiful place to run. There were always other runners, at different speeds and levels of fitness making the circuits, and with the New York Marathon fast approaching, the various routes could get very busy. She saw all sorts of people, including lots of student types and anonymous young men in baseball caps.

Andrea ran easily, used to pacing herself at a fast lope, and had run a further five hundred yards, when she rounded a bend to find a couple of teenage boys walking backwards slowly in front of her, effectively blocking the pathway. They were grinning to each other as if sharing a mutual joke. She slowed to a walk to move round them, when to her astonishment one of them quickly slid behind her and she felt an almighty crack across the back of her skull. The world turned black, the birds stopped singing, and Andy felt herself stumbling and then falling into an abyss of oblivion. She had been well and truly knocked out.

She didn't feel the muggers grab her precious phone and yank it from her pocket, nor the noise their trainers made sprinting away across the gravel, back into the Park. Nor did she know anything of the anxious, shocked crowd or people who quickly surrounded her prone body on the pathway, watching in horror as they saw the blood trickling in a messy puddle from the back of her head.

"Don't move her! Call 911!"

The sound of police sirens started from somewhere several streets away, followed by the wail of the ambulance. Gradually the crowds dispersed, as most of them had jobs to go to, or children to feed and deliver to school. As the ER teams arrived, only a few people stayed on, to tell the story as they had seen it.

From the trees the birds looked down at the human melee, their song shocked into silence by the sudden incursion of all the uniformed officers, medics and first responders who came to lift Andy's unconscious body onto a gurney and into the ambulance.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2.

"Miranda, please, calm down! You've only been gone for two weeks. I haven't had a chance to ruin Runway yet. Call me back in a month!"

Nigel Kipling was balancing his IPhone under his chin as he juggled three different piles of documents and a briefcase while trying to negotiate the huge revolving doors into the Elias Clarke building.

Miranda sounded quite hysterical, and he initially assumed she had seen the share price of Elias Clarke take a tumble on the markets, as it had that very morning. It took him a few moments to focus on what she was actually saying, or in fact sobbing, down the phone.

"OK, calm down. What has happened?"

"Andy hasn't come back from her run! She said she'd be home in ten minutes. It's been an hour! What shall I do? Cara says not to worry, but I'm frantic. She's not answering her phone!"

"Call the police, now! Just to be on the safe side, mind. I am sure she's fine, she may have been held up, or taken a detour. . . Oh . . . no."

As he spoke, Nigel's eyes had lifted to the constantly playing TV monitor on the wall of the vast lobby. The local cable network was showing an incident in what appeared to be Central Park. There were the emergency services picking up a stretcher, and the strapline ran along the bottom of the screen. "Phone mugging claims another victim."

He moved closer to the screen and signalled to the receptionists to raise the volume control. He heard the words, "young female runner . . ."and peered at the hazy pictures, obviously taken by an on-looker's phone as the clarity was very poor, but Oh God, there seemed no doubt when he saw the long pony tail. It was definitely their Six.

Nigel knew how Miranda, normally the most steely and calm person in any emergency, would be unravelling completely if she saw this footage. He thought quickly how best to tell her that her worst fears were possibly justified.

"Don't panic, Miranda, but I think I've just seen what happened on the local Cable News Channel. Andy might have been mugged, but don't worry, she'll be safely in the hospital by now. I've just seen the ambulance . . . "

Maybe he could have phrased it better, as his words were drowned by a virtual scream on the phone. He spoke firmly, despite his own pounding heart. "Listen, call the police. Keep calm. Find out where they've taken her and I'll come for you. Don't leave the house until we get there. I'm calling Roy back now with the car. He'll still only be a couple of streets away."

Miranda could feel herself getting a panic attack. She tried to get herself under control and calm down her breathing. The twins, just about ready for school, having stoically coped with peanut butter toast and a banana for breakfast, stared at their mother with horror. Cara, their erstwhile nanny, and now general domestic manager, put her arms round their shoulders and tried to reassure the whole family.

"Turn, turn on the TV," gasped Miranda. "Nigel says it's on the local news, still running now."

Cara switched on the kitchen TV and they all stared at the screen. Miranda was berating herself for exposing her children to a possible horrific sight. Cable TV enthusiastically chased ambulances and loved nightmarish scenarios, but she couldn't summon up the mental strength to get them straight out of the room or shield them from the TV coverage.

They saw the emergency ambulance crew picking someone up from the walkway and carrying her on a stretcher to the nearest gateway where an ambulance waited. The body on the stretcher was definitely Andrea's. She was frighteningly still.

A large crowd of on-lookers had gathered round. It was all on an amateur camera, so there wasn't any information coming from a witness, no confirmation of Andrea's health, no details apart from a "suspected mugging" and then a general commentary about the increase in street attacks throughout central Manhattan. But he timer on the camera showed it was recording at 7.30, an hour ago.

"Switch it off," Miranda said briskly, driving her head into coherent thought in order to control her heart.

"I'm going to call the police. Now, darlings, don't worry. Andy will be just fine. She's very tough. She'll probably be home with us by this evening. But I think you should let Cara take you to school. You mustn't be any later than you are already. No," – she could see they were about to vehemently refuse to leave her," I insist. I'll let you know how Andy is, by calling the school as soon as I can, but you mustn't miss lessons. She will be all right!"

She then quietly told Cara what to say at Dalton's, and heaved a sigh of relief as soon as she had shepherded the girls through the front door. If Andy had lost her life, she really couldn't see how she could have coped with comforting the girls right now, on top of her own grief. But the shock was still with her, and as soon as she was alone she started to tremble uncontrollably.

Miranda versus the Police information system was not a smooth fit or a pretty sight. It took her several wasted minutes before she even got through to someone live, longer to find someone with actual information about the incident, and when she did they seemed incredibly obtuse about who she was, and why she had a right to know what had happened.

"Next of kin? Of course I'm bloody well next of kin! She's my fiancée. We live together. Which hospital have they taken her to? "

Three separate people made her tediously repeat her name, address, telephone and relationship and she was still on the phone when Nigel and Roy came up to the front door together. She undid the locks with the phone still to her ear. She cursed the homophobic assumptions she could hear in the sceptical responses to her call for information, but finally extracted the name of the hospital where Andy had been taken.

"St Luke's. Right. Finally. Do you have their number? No? Well, that's all then." And she virtually flung the phone across the table.

Nigel looked at her. Miranda appeared white as a sheet, and was still in her dressing-gown. He didn't like the slightly mad and distracted expression in her eyes. His friend certainly needed help.

Roy pulled out a kitchen chair and firmly sat Miranda down on it before she passed out. He could see she was in shock, and held her shoulders steady in a way he would never normally do.

Nigel flipped his phone open and scrolled through until he found the right hospital number, then took on the challenge of extracting information. "It's hopeless," he said after a few minutes of increasingly acerbic conversation. Let's get over there. Maybe in person, we can do better. "

"I must dress," muttered Miranda, stating the obvious.

"Here, have a drink of water," said Roy. "You'll feel better. I'll bring the car up to the house. Try not to worry too much. Andy girl is a tough cookie."

Between them, the two men managed to get Miranda upstairs without her collapsing, and when she reached her room, the shock reaction had settled and she felt more normal.

"I'll be fine. I'm not the injured party here. Give me just a few minutes and I'll be ready to go."

She dismissed them, and did re-emerge from the bedroom she shared with Andrea in less than five minutes, dressed, coiffed, made-up and ready to go. It was one of her magic tricks which never failed to astonish her colleagues. She gave a very good impression of someone not screaming on the inside, even though the sight of the crumpled sheets next to where she had slept had nearly floored her.

St Luke's was a huge metropolitan hospital, with a frenetic ER department. The two men and Miranda all approached the front desk. Coupled with her naturally authoritative air, the fact of companions who could easily be mistaken for her bodyguards at least gave Miranda the undivided attention of the admissions desk clerk.

"I think the young woman to whom you refer," said the clerk, very slowly and calmly as if he was used to dealing with hysterical relatives, "is currently in Triage. If you'd like to wait in the inner corridor, someone will be able to tell you more. "

"But she's alive?"

"Yes, Ma'am. As far as I can ascertain, she's certainly alive."

Miranda's breast rose and fell. She stifled tears of relief.

"I want to see her. I must see her," and without waiting for another second, she was away through the swinging doors into the bowels of the hospital. Nigel and Roy had no choice but to swiftly follow her.

It took endless arguments, and Miranda at her most bloody minded rudest, before she was finally allowed to sit down next to Andrea's bed and hold her hand. She had given Nigel Jenny Sach's cell phone number, and he was negotiating with the hospital authorities as to who should most properly inform their patient's physical family. But they at least now accepted they had formal identification of the unconscious woman, backed by a debit card still within her hoodie pocket.

It was true. The only reason Andrea had been attacked was for her IPhone. Even her headphones were still in her pocket. Miranda began to blame herself for thoughtlessly buying such a desirable top of the range phone. She gently held Andrea's fingers and caressed the diamond ring she had so recently also given her. Thank God they hadn't ripped that off her beautiful fingers.

Andy's head was swathed in bandages. She must have a nasty wound, but her colour wasn't too bad. Miranda felt as long as she could stay here next to her darling girl, holding her hand until she woke up, then she herself might survive another day. She asked Nigel to call Dalton's School, to give an encouraging message to the girls, and told Roy he should go home to his wife. He worked a split shift, and had already been on duty since 6 am.

Then, at last, a young but competent looking Doctor came into the room, and gave Miranda a summary of their diagnosis.

"She's had one very nasty blow to the head, which has been sutured, but apart from some grazing where she fell, no other visible injuries. We had to shave her head I'm afraid, as her hair was very matted and there was a need to clear all the area round the wound."

Miranda's breath did catch, as she heard this, but what was the loss of hair, however glorious, when her darling's life itself might have been taken?

The doctor continued, "Her pupils are slightly dilated, her blood pressure is rather low, but she might have some internal bleeding and swelling to the brain. She is probably severely concussed, and it might take several days, or even a few weeks for that to settle, but we don't think there is anything more serious at this stage. We are monitoring her vital signs, obviously."

"Obviously!"

Andy was attached by several wires to monitoring systems which were continuously bleeping and flashing as her heart rate, blood pressure and other indications continued to rhythmically pulse across the screen.

"Would you like to stay? You can if you like."

Miranda opened her mouth to make a sarcastic retort to such an idiotic question, but then remembered what Andy would have thought of her throwing her weight around at the poor over-worked hospital staff, and adjusted her vocabulary.

"I will stay. And there is to be no question of not providing her with every care. I will cover all the expenses."

"It may be tomorrow before she wakes."

"That's irrelevant. She needs to know I am here whenever she comes round."

"The police were waiting, wanting to interview her, but we persuaded them to leave. And they were asking about security on this ward. Something about press intrusion being possible?"

"Yes, it's probable if her name gets out. If this ward isn't secure, will you then move Andrea away into a more private room? I have had first-hand experience of the paparazzi menace. They are like cockroaches and slide in everywhere."

"Certainly. I'll see what I can do."

Nigel returned from using his phone to call the Sachs parents. He looked sombre. "Jenny is taking the first available flight. She'll be here by dinner time today. She was understandably very upset, but I reassured her that Andy is going to be fine. She seemed almost as concerned about you!"

Miranda felt comforted, that Jenny would be there soon, and that hopefully she would not think Miranda was to blame for letting Andrea leave the house without a Navy seal bodyguard. She also realised Nigel had given up at least half a day in his frantic schedule to support her.

"Now, Nigel, you get on back to Runway. I am absolutely fine here, and as soon as Andrea wakes up, I'll call you. Keep this quiet though, apart from maybe Emily and Serena. We want to limit the publicity. You know how wild rumours can circulate and develop a life of their own."

Nigel actually came forward and actually kissed the top of her head.

"I'm coming back this evening to give you a break. Even you need to eat and sleep. And you know I'm only a phone call away."

"Hmm. Thanks. Also, then, can you liaise with Roy about picking up Jenny from JFK? I can't use my cell phone from in here without getting into a stupid bureaucratic spat with some idiotic minion."

Nigel could see something of the old Miranda rising up, full of bile and bite, due to her anxiety over Andrea, and decided to quietly withdraw. He paused at the door and looked back, but Miranda didn't turn. She had both hands round Andrea grazed left hand, and was murmuring sweet nothings to her young lover. She wanted no other company.


	3. Chapter 3

A Bang on the Head.

Chapter 3.

By 4pm, a slightly more senior looking doctor invaded Miranda's reverie as she was almost hypnotised by the constant beeping of the monitoring equipment in the peaceful semi-silence of Andy's bedside. Nurses had come and gone on the hour, every hour but the patient remained asleep.

"Miranda Priestly? Good afternoon. I understand you've requested Miss Sachs is moved upstairs to a more secure room, so we're organising that now. We'll also put her onto a drip to keep fluids and nutrition in balance while she remains unconscious. You will have noticed we've catheterised her. It's all perfectly normal."

Miranda nodded without any more sarcastic commentary. She had withdrawn inside herself while she held the vigil at Andrea's bedside, to a safe place where they could both be at peace. She had also studied her beloved's peaceful face, still tanned and showing a flushed pinkness against her white bandages.

She had wavered between wanting so much for Andrea to wake up, to see that lovely reassuring grin, and fighting the anxiety that if she did wake up too soon, then her concussed head and brain might not be able to stand the shock of consciousness. She had spoken quietly and lovingly at intervals throughout her stay, trying to be amusing and stimulating the girl into consciousness but the eyelashes across Andy's cheeks had not fluttered, nor had she stirred in bed.

Miranda stood up and stepped back as orderlies moved Andy gently onto a gurney and wheeled her, along with all of her medical paraphernalia, out of the room and along the corridor towards the elevators. She took the opportunity herself to use the toilet facilities and then followed them up to the new location, a superior private room on a secluded floor for intensive care patients. She was realistic enough to know their stay in the hospital was likely to be more likely days rather than hours, and so had risked official wrath by ringing Cara and the girls from the cloakroom.

"Andy's absolutely fine," she had lied through her teeth, "But she's asleep just now, and too sleepy to have visitors, apart from me and Granny Jen, who will be here soon. Be good girls for Cara, and do your homework. If I'm not home in time for your bedtime, I will definitely see you tomorrow morning."

She listened to them trying to cope with what had happened to their beloved Andy, in Central Park of all places, and how they were going to each make a wonderful get-well card for her.

"That's a fantastic idea, Bobbsies. They don't allow flowers in here, but cards will be lovely. Andy will be so happy to receive them. If you make them this evening, then I will bring them back here tomorrow. Now I must go. Bye, darlings."

She could hear someone harrumphing about outside the toilet cubicle, so pushed the flush, hid her phone and marched out to the washbasins, brooking no discussion about obeying the hospital protocols. She returned to Andy's bedside before anyone could challenge her, her heels clacking down the corridor just as Andy used to tease her. She settled back done next to her and ran a finger down her cheek.

"So, how do you like your new room? The view is better at least. We can almost see up to where we live. I want to talk to you again about plans for reconfiguring the house. If we knock down walls though, we will need planning permission from the building preservation people and you know how long that could take."

Andrea didn't say anything, but she didn't make any objection to Miranda chatting on. Hopefully the sound of a loved voice might help pull her back. Miranda gradually lapsed into silence, and her head nodded back in the chair.

"Miranda, darling!" Miranda jumped slightly from a half asleep reverie in her plastic visitor's chair, and turned to look up at the tall vision of elegance who was Jenny Sachs shimmering through the door. They smiled uncomplicatedly at each other, and exchanged a hug. Miranda sighed, "I'm so happy to see you, but so sorry about the circumstances." She glanced at her Cartier watch, and saw it was past 6pm.

Jenny went straight to Andy's bedside and kissed her fondly on the cheek.

"Any sign of her coming round yet?"

Miranda looked seriously sad, and shook her head. "I just put my faith in that little monitor. As long as it keeps beeping, then I feel we're OK. They say it could be tomorrow morning before she emerges, and if it is that long, then we are not to worry too much. It's nature's way of healing. I know sometimes they put people into induced comas to help the brain recover."

Neither women took their concerns any further, but they both feared some permanent damage might be a factor. They held each other's hand for a few seconds in solidarity.

"You'll stay with us, of course?"

Jenny nodded, and then said, "Look, while I'm here, why don't you take some time to spend the evening with the twins before they go to bed. They must be distressed. I'll call you if there is any change. Then we can swop over later if you like, and you can take the graveyard shift."

Miranda dithered for a few moments, then nodded. She owed it to her precious girls to support them in their anxiety for they both truly adored Andy.

"Very well, but you will call me, promise? Otherwise I won't leave these premises."

"Of course. Go!"

So Miranda reluctantly went home, embraced her girls and sought to reassure them. She had no appetite for the meal Cara had prepared, but made a pretence at eating it, to help the girls finish theirs. After their desultory attempts to complete some homework, she sat down to give them a cuddle on the sofa. No-one cared to watch the TV and within half an hour all three of them had fallen asleep in the warmth of the central heating clicking on automatically against the chilly September evening.

Cara, who had brought her overnight things to stay in a guest room without even considering it to be an issue, was happy to see her employer asleep, especially after the traumatic events of the day. Cara knew what it was like to be frightened half to death at the thought of a loved one perishing, as her husband was serving overseas with the army transport corps in Iraq, and she had long ago come to terms with the fact that every Goodbye might be a final one.

But meanwhile, on the ninth floor of St Luke's hospital, things were getting rather interesting. To start with, Nigel, accompanied by both Emily and Serena, had arrived at the hospital soon after 8pm, and verbally bludgeoned their way through security and medical protocols. Emily was especially useful in that regard. Jenny was sitting quietly, and took advantage of their presence to leave the unit for a few minutes to phone her husband.

The Runway crew all tried to both wake Andrea up, and simultaneously not wake her up too sharply. Nigel told her jokes and teased her, Serena crooned in the husky Portuguese accent which she would probably never quite lose, while Emily, easily the most upset of the three, pushed past them to grab Andy's hand and pinched it viciously, swearing at her fiercely.

"Wake up Sachs! We're not having one of those ridiculous cliff-hangers where we all sit round your bed for days on end," she stormed. "Some of us have got better things to do, than be in this sodding hospital." Nigel did raise an eyebrow, but he knew this was how Emily normally expressed her finer feelings.

As was often the case, Emily's bullying did produce results. Fourteen hours after she was knocked unconscious in Central Park, Andy's brain decided it had had sufficient recovery time for her to wake up. Her large brown eyes stared into Emily's, astonished and trying to focus. She had no idea where she was and why she was there.

"About flipping time," shouted Emily, though she did not use the word flipping.

"What? Where? Aw, my head!" Andy groaned. A little man with a pick-axe was breaking up stones inside her head. She lifted her head half an inch off the pillow and then fell back, just as Jenny returned to the room and rushed to the bed.

"Don't move, darling. Hush."

"Mom, why are you here? Where am I?"

"You're in hospital, my love. You were mugged I'm afraid, while you were running in Central Park early this morning. They stole your IPhone."

Andrea looked up at all her visitors in puzzlement. "Hi, Em, Hi Nigel, Serena! Why was I running in Central Park of all places? It's miles from Brooklyn, and anyway I should have been at Runway by that time."

The visitors all exchanged the same look of bewildered caution. Emily took the bullocks by the horns. "You're obviously delirious. You've been running in the Park every day since you moved into the townhouse. Rubbing my nose in your fitness regime every chance you get! "

Andrea's head was certainly throbbing, but she wasn't deaf.

"What the hell are you talking about Em? Moved into the townhouse? Why would I move into the townhouse? And I don't have an Iphone, only a Nokia. Miranda has been on at me for weeks to replace it. Oh no, if I am in here, who has been looking after her schedule all day? Who has fetched the coffees? "

Her mother decided it was time to clarify things for her youngest child. Andy's concussion was obviously still serious. "My darling, Miranda gave you the IPhone as a present, so she can always be in touch with you. Don't you remember?"

"No, why, why would Miranda want to give me a present?"

"Because she loves you. You and she are going to be married. "

Jenny looked at Andy's left hand, hoping to see the engagement ring which would surely help her come to her senses, but the hospital staff had slipped it off and given it to Miranda for security reasons.

Andy's eyes grew as round as saucers, and she actually laughed a little, until her headache discouraged such extravagance.

"Come off it Mom, we must be in some dream here. Miranda ask me to marry her? What an idea. She's . . . . I can't do a thing right. Yesterday, yester . . . "

She fell silent. Memories of yesterday were fading and turning to smoke even as she tried to focus on them. Probably this was all a dream.

Nigel grasped what the matter might be.

"Look, Six. You've had a really bad bang on the head. You need to get some more sleep, and tomorrow I'm sure you'll be fine.

Emily was more direct, "Andy, just tell me, what do you think today's date is?"

Andy tried to focus. Em was so bossy!

"Why are you asking? Oh well, I'm pretty sure it's 2004. June, um, maybe the 17th? Yes, because I've just organised Miranda's twins' birthday party, and we had a real nightmare getting a cake delivered down from Ace of Cakes in Baltimore in time yesterday."

Emily was about to jump in and correct her and tell her she was three months out of date, perhaps the most tumultuous and life changing three months of her life, but Nigel and Jenny together shook their heads so firmly that she stopped before she spoke another word.

Jenny squeezed her daughter's hand. "You go back to sleep darling. I'm going to tell the doctors you've woken up and they will look after you. We'll sort everything out in the morning."

Andrea's eyelids closed, and she appeared to be slipping back into oblivion. The four visitors all left the room and had a mini conference with the medical team on the ward desk. They were all firmly advised to leave for the night as any more stimulation could delay Andrea's recovery. The doctors assured them that temporary mild amnesia was very commonly associated with concussion, and should soon pass.

As they walked down the corridor following the exit signs, they tried to reassure each other.

"It's temporary, I'm sure."

"Yes, they said amnesia isn't uncommon in these circs."

"She'll pull round tomorrow."

"But if she doesn't? If she can't remember anything of the last three months?"

"Then Miranda will have her work cut out. She'll have to woo Andy all over again!"

"Don't be ridiculous Seri! Can you see Miranda doing that? Trust Sachs to forget she's gone and got herself engaged to the Queen of New York fashion! Only someone as lacking in decorum and good taste as Andy would even dare to do such a thing, and then promptly erase it from her mind!"

"And who is going to tell Miranda?"

"I will", said Jenny, "when I see her tonight, and I'll do it as gently as possible. It might present quite a challenge. You know, they are very much in love."

"Hmm," said Emily. "Well, they were, I grant you. But supposing Andy doesn't feel that way again? If she's forgotten everything that's happened between them? Nothing's certain."

Nigel ushered them out, and beckoned over to Roy waiting patiently in the company car to take them all home.

"Oh, one thing is certain. Miranda loves Andy, and she won't let a little thing like Andy forgetting all about it put a stick through the wheel. You'll see!"


	4. Chapter 4

**A Bang on the Head Chapter 4.**

Roy had called ahead to the Town House to say he had Jenny in the car, the last of the folk he was dropping off, and would arrive in five minutes, so Miranda was waiting at the door for Andrea's mother, as she came up the stone steps. They embraced, and Miranda reached forward to take Jenny's overnight cabin bag. She passed it back to Cara, who said, "I'll be away to bed, then. Don't worry about Cass and Caro tomorrow. I'll take very good care of them."

Jenny's first words were, "Andy woke for a few minutes. They say it's a good sign, but then they instructed us all to leave for the night. You and I can return first thing tomorrow morning."

"And how was she. I so wish I was there. Did she speak at all?"

"A little. She seemed lucid, except . . "

"Except what?" Miranda's heart gave an unwelcome bump when Jenny paused.

"Well, she has a touch of amnesia. She seems to think it is still mid-June, and she is still working at Runway"

"Whaat?"

Miranda's quick brain immediately comprehended the implications.

"Did she mention me?"

"Hmm. She was worried about letting you down, at not being able to get to work. She mentioned the twins' birthday party."

"Oh dear. That was a day and a half. I lost my temper with her, quite unjustifiably, because I thought she's forgotten to order the cake. How I wish I could turn the clock back. . . . . So she may have forgotten all about our engagement, how things have changed since then, Provincetown, everything? Oh God! Could that be possible?"

"Look, Miranda honey, it is really early days, less than one day in fact! They told us amnesia is really common and that it will right itself very soon. "

Jenny tried to sound reassuring, but Miranda's mind had already jumped forward to come to a similar conclusion to Emily's. Supposing, having erased from her memory that she and Miranda were madly in love, Andy would very sensibly re-think the whole idiotic notion of them marrying? The idea fed all of Miranda's worst insecurities.

Jenny literally bolstered her up by holding her tightly and saying briskly,

"I forbid you to worry about any of this. Andrea adores you. I know she does, and more importantly, she has for a long time, for far longer than the last three months, and if you won her over before, you will do so again."

"I secured her affections before, by snarling at her, manhandling her and finally forcibly snapping her wrist into handcuffs! I can't see how I could manage that over again, and anyway I'm sure it wouldn't work a second time! We were both extremely overwrought, furious with each other, slightly inebriated and suffering the effects of a thunderstorm when it happened!"

"Oh, you'll think of a way if you need to, but I am sure you won't. I am convinced her brain will be back on track tomorrow, if not quite as right as rain."

"Oh I do pray that's the case. I have prayed a lot today, and you know my views on organised religion! But Andrea will be traumatised for a long time anyway, after the violence of the attack, and her hair, her beautiful hair . . . She was always threatening to cut it off, but it shouldn't have been lost like this!"

Jenny bodily walked her friend up the long staircase towards the bedrooms. "Stop it! You and I, Miranda, are both going to get a good sleep tonight. Tomorrow we are going to be strong, and together provide my daughter with everything she needs to minimise her trauma. I have complete faith in your ability to do that."

"More than I do," thought Miranda, then out loud she asked, "What about Richard? Is he coming across from Ohio?"

Miranda had still never met Andy's father, but she knew how low his opinion of her had been back in the spring. She just imagined how much he would blame her for all of Andy's current troubles.

"He's in Court just now. When the case finishes, he'll be on the first plane out of Cinn. Don't worry. He also understands how much Andy loves you, and he respects that. It will be fine!"

They parted at the guest room door.

"Now, Miranda, get some sleep. Tomorrow, wake me as early as you like. I never sleep later than 6am anyway. "

Miranda, went along to her own bedroom, "their" bedroom now, hers and Andrea's. She undressed and took off her make-up. She held it all together until she slipped into bed, and saw Andrea's favorite Betty Boop pyjamas folded up under the pillow. Then, as she took them in her arms and wrapped herself up in the sweet scent of Andy's night clothes, the tears came unbidden and she cried herself to sleep. She couldn't bear to even think of losing Andrea, who was her love, and her life, she really couldn't.

But the next morning, as is so often the case, things looked brighter. A pre-dawn phone-call to the hospital had confirmed that the patient had had a "comfortable" night, and was now fully conscious. The two women set out together in Miranda's car, and arrived at the entrance just as the night shift staff were leaving. A few well-chosen words, and Miranda's best attempt at good manners had allowed them to ignore normal visiting hours and go straight up to Andy's room. They walked in on her together.

Andy was still swathed in bandages, and the blinds were drawn indicating that the sunshine, even at 7am, was hurting her eyes, but she was propped up in a semi seated position in bed, with a small tray of half eaten grapefruit pieces and breakfast muesli beside her.

Her face lit up as she saw her mother, and then she caught sight of Miranda and blushed adorably with huge embarrassment. Miranda instantly realised that the challenge was simple and eventually things were going to be all right. However she achieved it, she was going to re-tie all the knots binding them tightly to each other, because her love for this woman was unconditional. Such an inconsequential thing, amnesia, besides that solid fact.

"Miranda, I'm so sorry!"

"Why ever?" Miranda thought she would walk into this particular wood rather carefully. "Do you realise you tend to start every sentence you address to me with those words? What have you done to be sorry for now?"

Her words were those of an employer, but she couldn't help smiling with love. She needed to know if Andrea still thought it was mid-June before starting to challenge her assumptions. She really badly wanted to kiss her face under its turban of bandages.

Andrea replied, "I have no idea why I'm here, but I should obviously be at Runway. The twins' birthday is tomorrow, and there is still so much to organise."

Her mother sat on one side of the bed, while Miranda perched nervously on the other half. They each reached out and took one of Andrea's hands. She was astonished to see them in the same room together, let alone feel Miranda's fingers holding her hand and caressing it in a rather familiar and intimate way. All she could do was let out a little squeak.

Jenny looked her in the eye. "Yesterday darling, which was actually the 15th of September, you had a nasty accident while you were running. We believe some youths hit you from behind and robbed you of your IPhone, the one Miranda bought you in July, the one with a blue sapphire coloured cover. Do you remember it?"

Andrea looked from one to the other, panic stricken. "No, that can't be true. I dreamed last night that Nigel and Emily were here, and you Mom, and you all said weird stuff like that. It's not true. How can it be?"

"Darling, you are suffering from amnesia due to the bang you took on the head. You mustn't worry. The doctors assure us it won't last long, but we'll have to bring you up to date with everything that has happened since June. Do you trust us to tell you the truth?"

"Of course, but Emily said such incredible things to be in my dream. Things which could never have happened."

She looked up at Miranda and gulped.

Miranda spoke more bravely than she felt. "Darling Andrea, I think you will find that everything Emily said is true as far as she knows it, but the reality is even more wonderful than she can imagine. You and I, and the twins, we are now a family. We've all recently had a wonderful week up in Provincetown, where we've bought a beach cottage. You no longer work for me at Runway. You are already three chapters into writing your first novel."

"But, but, Nate? And how did you ever find out that I loved you? I have tried so hard to hide it. I simply can't imagine that you might even consider loving me back. It is impossible. You are so out of my league. This concussion they tell me I have is playing these tricks on me. I think you and Mom must both be phantoms of my own brain."

Miranda stopped her caress and bent forwards until she was close to Andrea's face. She cupped her cheek, kissed it lightly then none too gently bit her ear.

"Ow!"

"Tell me. Was that real?"

"It felt real, but dreams can do that to you. Miranda Priestly would never kiss me, but she might bite me, I agree, when she, you, gets exasperated . . . Oh hell, I don't know what I'm saying. What proof can you give me that today is in September? "

Jenny Sachs reached over for the TV remote control and switched on the breakfast news.

"Here, watch the headlines. You still might be on the local news yourself."

There was no mention of the mugging in the Park. TV was far too ephemeral a medium for it still to be newsworthy, but the date and time up on the screen behind the two anchors were definitely as her Mom had said. Andrea could not find the words to express how astonished she felt, and how frustrated it made her to realise she had apparently lost twelve weeks of her life.

She asked Miranda nervously, "So, you had the children's party then? How did it go?"

"It went splendidly. You were magnificent. The cake was a triumph, and the baby elephant stole the show."

"I wish I'd been there."

"You were darling. You were."

Andrea suddenly felt rather faint. She clung on to both her visitors, but lay back on the pillows, and her face went a frightening shade of white.

"I think I'm going to throw up."

Miranda grabbed a basin from the side cabinet and thrust it under Andrea's face as she suddenly bent over, retching up the contents of her stomach., not a huge amount really as she had only had half her breakfast, but it was still a most unpleasant feeling. Miranda dabbed her face with a damp cleansing tissue, and passed her a glass of water.

"Here, rinse your mouth with this, my love, and spit it out."

Jenny went out of the room to fetch a nurse to help Andrea clean up, and Miranda and Andrea looked into each other's eyes.

"Maybe you do care a little for me, Miranda" mused Andrea, very slowly and tentatively. "You're very good at catching sick anyway."

"I'm very good at a lot of things, sweetie. You are going to have to stay in here for a little while longer, I'm afraid, but I am not leaving you unless I absolutely have to, and we are going to sort out your memory loss together. Maybe we'll just have to relive the last three months all over again. I wouldn't mind. It has been the best three months of my life, and the sex has been spectacular."

Andrea's face grew wide-eyed as she looked up at Miranda face, and saw its characteristic little sideways grin.

"You mean . . . ?"

"Oh yes!"

"But I have never . . . not with . . . you know . . . I wouldn't dare, not with you! Oh my God!"

"Well you did. We have had a ball. I am going to have to return to first base with you, I can see, and go over everything that has happened. But of course, there won't be any sex until you are quite better."

Andy wanted to make a joke about sex being the best form of medicine she could imagine, but she didn't dare. She was completely in awe of Miranda. Then Jenny returned with a nurse in tow, who immediately took charge of the basin of vomit.

"I'll take that and bring you another cardboard bowl to use if you feel sick again," she said. "It shows you are still very concussed. I think your visitors should leave now, and let you rest."

"Yes, I'm sorry. Miranda, you must already be so late for work. Will you be able to come back this evening? I would love it if you could, but I totally understand . . . "

"Darling, I have all the time in the world. We have both left Runway. I am on sabbatical for the next year from this month. I'll be back at 2pm on the dot."

Andrea leaned back and felt stranger than ever. Miranda had left Runway in the care of others, for a whole year? This was definitely a parallel universe she had dropped into. Then she realised something else was very strange.

"Where has my hair gone?" she asked, and felt a tear slip out of her eye, as she understood why her head, even under the bandages felt so naked.

Her mother hugged and kissed her and whispered, "Oh don't worry about that darling. They had to shave it off to dress your wound. But your hair will grow back in no time at all."

Miranda came even closer and held her tenderly. "Do you remember threatening to chop it off yourself? Let me cry for your beautiful chestnut curls, my Andrea, not you. As your Mom says, they will soon grow out again, and you can have the pixie cut you said you wanted"

They eventually both left, shooed out by the nurses who wanted to give Andrea a bed –bath and re-dress her head wound.

"Let's find a coffee," said Miranda, "Or tea, if you prefer. I want to pick your brains, Jennie, about how we get Andy's memory back. Otherwise I will have to seduce her all over again, and persuade her that this battered old body really needs her beside it for the next thirty years. I can't imagine why she would fall for that line a second time!"

"Oh, yes, let's get a coffee, but as I keep telling you, Miri, don't underestimate your powers of charisma! Look, there's a sign for the hospital coffee shop, and maybe I can tempt you to a dairy free goodie as well? You know, they always say, an army marches on its stomach, and we have to start our campaign for Andy's recovery!"


	5. Chapter 5

A Bang on the Head

Chapter 5.

Andy Sachs had never been in hospital before, and so far she couldn't say she was much enjoying the experience. However she did try to be cooperative and pleasant with the constant relay of busy medical staff who hurried in and out of her room, making her head hurt even more.

They came to check on the monitors, re-dressing the painful wound on the back of her head, take her blood pressure, as well as washing her, and changing the catheter bag, but she still felt very trapped and claustrophobic on her hospital bed. She was pegged down by all the wires and drips and monitors. Andy really wanted to go home, if only she could remember where home was, but realistically she knew she wasn't yet fit to leave.

Her headache still hammered away, her eyes were very sensitive to the light, waves of nausea often engulfed her, and, worst of all, she had an alarming feeling of bewilderment and panic about her memory loss. She kept trying to focus, to regain a memory of where she had been, and what had happened over the last twelve or so weeks, but the more she sought for it, the more elusive her power of recall was.

The central mystery of this was her relationship with Miranda, the exasperatingly wonderful woman on whom she had developed the most devastating crush almost immediately after starting to work as Editor's second assistant. Miranda's classically beautiful face and figure, her impeccable style, her default attitude of barely controlled fury, and the dry sarcasm of her wit had all seduced Andy from the start.

Andy had soon become physically addicted to every aspect of Miranda, for example, to her unique perfume. This gave her imminent presence away more than anything else, for despite her clattering heels, Miranda had developed the trick of silently appearing behind her suddenly, leaning over her shoulder, maybe to correct a script she was struggling with on the computer, or tapping on her desk with a perfectly manicured finger, in disapproval at a forgotten task, or even a discarded candy wrapper in the waste bin.

"Junk food again, Andrea? Are we to presume you are working hard to put on even more weight?"

First assistant Emily had put the frighteners onto her about their boss from day one, fiercely listing all the things Miranda would demand, all that she would debar. This second list seemed endless. There was to be no questioning, no seeking clarification, no personal comments or observations, no answering back or arguing, no flat shoes, and heaven forbid, no sign of any human frailty! Everything in Miranda's office had to be perfect, scalding coffee was to be provided on demand, and every wish treated as a command.

It sounded like it would be easier to work for Attila the Hun, apart from having to ride galloping ponies five hundred miles across the Mongolian steppes, (or was that Genghis Khan?). Anyway, after a week or two of night terrors, interrupted by Miranda's frequent 3 a.m. phone calls, Andy could almost imagine being instructed to forego riding lessons and just saddle up at any moment! She was a naturally merry, chatty and very friendly girl, so crushing her sociably cheerful spirit had taken some doing, and in truth Emily, let alone Miranda, had never truly been successful.

Andy's aim in coming to New York was to find work as a journalist. She wanted to write for a living. It was her passion, but in the beginning her only substantial writing tasks had been to correct and complete ten year olds' homework, and scribble down frantic list of "To-dos" on yellow post-it notes across her desk, or in her reporter's pad as she scurried behind Miranda on the move, receiving what seemed like an almost stream of consciousness list of instructions issued in power whispers.

At least Andy had one distinct advantage over Emily, (the only one, as far as she could see,) in that she had been given a short-hand course as a small part of her journalism degree. It meant her pen could actually keep up with Miranda's brain, as she ran behind her taking dictation, and then tried to cope with the three days' ensuing work load crammed into every shift.

Andy, or Andrea, as Miranda had insisted on calling her, (as if she was French instead of having been born in rural Ohio), had known absolutely nothing of the fashion world into which she had unexpectedly been submerged. Her first challenge was that she had nothing remotely suitable to wear to the office. Her high end work clothes had been finally provided by Nigel the Art Director, but while she loved the quality and feel of them, they had always felt like a uniform for an army posting for which she was completely unsuited and poorly trained. She completely understood Miranda's conviction that she was totally unsuitable for her job, as she shared the very same feeling.

Her ignorance shocked and then amused her colleagues, puzzled the famous designers with whom she had to liaise, and provoked Miranda into ever more extreme bouts of baiting and humiliating her. At times she had suspected Miranda was hoping she'd leave Runway in floods of tears and never return, but she was determined not to let that happen, not if she died in the attempt!

Miranda was famous for firing incompetent staff, but as the weeks, and then months had moved on, Andy was still in post. By the end of six months her job seemed more secure than the rest of her life. Nate, her boyfriend, had almost become a grumpy stranger, and her other friends also drifted away, despite her well-intentioned best efforts. She had been transformed into a "Runway" girl, and they didn't care much for it.

Andy wasn't sure she cared for it herself very much either, but she loved the high quality of the publication, the quality of the writing, the editorials and the artwork, and she realised eventually that Miranda had taught her very well how to create a work of publishing perfection on a monthly basis.

By June she had become completely loyal to Runway, and to its charismatic Editor in Chief. Theirs had developed into an unusual and intense working relationship, somewhat resembling a game of chess. Andrea felt like a little pawn trying to cross the checkerboard and outwit a ferocious Queen who could move at will, but who could also sometimes be surprised and almost disarmed by her assistant's achieving the impossible.

All of this flooded through Andy's brain as she lay back on her pillows and mourned the loss of her luxuriantly long and wavy head of chestnut hair. She knew it had been her crowning glory, for she had never cut it apart from the casual trim since she had entered her teenage years. Now it was consigned to some trash bin for clinical waste, matted with her own blood according to one of the nurses who had understood her sense of loss and explained why it had been shaved while she was unconscious.

Andy struggled with an almost physical memory of someone recently gently brushing and fondling her hair. This had significance. If she could remember more about it, maybe it would be the key to solving her amnesia, but nothing came to enlighten her through the forests of forgetfulness.

Then there was the bizarre and totally illogical reincarnation of Miranda by her bedside to understand. Had Miranda actually claimed they were "family"? This new Miranda seemed to be on very good terms with her own mother, and shimmered in and out of the hospital looking at her with deep blue anxious eyes, had even kissed her and bit her gently on the ear! Andy tried, and tried again to make sense of this. But the more she thought, the crazier it all seemed. No, if she knew anything, it was that the bang on her head had seriously sent her bonkers!

Andrea realised she needed her mother to come back to explain what had happened. Mom was so sensible. Or should she call on Emily, crabby, bossy, foul-mouthed, funny Emily? She could rely on Emily to be devastatingly honest about her chances of ever regaining her sanity.

However, of all the people in this new Alice in Wonderland world where she was currently trapped, Andy yearned most for Miranda. Despite being half terrorised, half hypnotised by the woman, Andy wanted her presence. The attack in the Park (Again, why ever had she been there at seven in the morning?) had failed in one major respect. It had not cured her ridiculously inconvenient crush on the unattainable object of her affections.

"Oh, Miranda, Miranda, Miranda, . . " she sighed quietly, as she slid back into a fractured sleep.

Meanwhile, downstairs in the hospital canteen, over tepid coffee which did little for either of them, two women who both loved Andy the most were discussing tactics. This was partly in an attempt to deflect their minds from the anxiety they felt about her concussive state, and current loss of memory.

"We are in the early stages, obviously," said Andy's mom. "They say it will be at least three days before they think she'll even be ready to be discharged, and then she'll need a very quiet period of convalescence."

"Andy will hate that. She's a restless soul at the best of times, and very physically active."

"But if her head throbs, and she feels ill, then she will obey orders. Why don't you bring the twins in to visit her later today after school? They will be desperate to see her, and if she sees them, it may help nudge her brain back into sync."

"I was thinking about that, but I'm rather worried they will be upset by all her bandages and the fact that her hair has been chopped. Caroline has already tried to start growing hers to "be like Andy."

"We'll prep them between us, and I am sure they will cheer Andy up no end. Your twins are a tonic for anyone and they adore her. She can't fail to realise that. Then later, when we get her home to your place . . ."

"But will she even want to come back to us? She used to tiptoe round the ground floor like a timid gazelle before I had to kidnap her because of the handcuffs incident!"

"Stop beating yourself up, Miri. Of course it's her home. If you are worried about rushing her, why don't you give her a guest room for a while, until her memory comes back?"

"I'd rather give her our bed, and I move into the guest room. But supposing her recent memory never does return. We have to face the reality that it may not."

"Then I think this is what you should do. I know my daughter very well. She can't help loving you, but instead of assuming she won't want to reciprocate your feelings, why don't you just leave it to her to do the courting, and make the running this time? You did rather bounce her into the relationship before."

Jenny was worried she might have overstepped the mark by saying this, but Miranda gave a wry nod. "To call it bouncing is putting it politely! We spent one night in bed handcuffed together, and by morning neither of us could barely stand. Though this isn't the sort of conversation I ever imagined having with my hopefully future mother-in-law!"

Jenny took Miranda's hand. "Don't worry, darling! Let's just say, I know how much you love and care for her. I admit I originally imagined you had bullied her into some sort of physical relationship, but I know it wasn't like that at all."

"Jenny, believe me, I didn't want to ruin her life. I did fight against it for many weeks, I really did try, but it was like sinking into a bath of caramel. The more I thrashed about and tried to put her off me, the more smitten I became. In the end I just lost control. I am still ashamed."

"Well now, if you are, (though I don't think you need be) with this strange memory loss, you have the chance to allow things to develop differently. Leave it to her, my daughter's not as passive as you might think, and she is a grown woman, not a kid any more. Why not just be there for her, with your kind, loving self, but leave the romancing to her. I think you'll be surprised by the result. Why not, let her buy the ring this time?"

Miranda fell silent and withdrew into herself. She was dreadfully afraid that Jenny was mistaken, and Andrea would never even mention being attracted to her again, let alone act on it, but she saw the logic of letting her take the initiative and thereby get some agency herself in their partnership. It was so unequal in power at the moment.

"Well, OK, I see your point on that. But do kindly put a good word or two in for me. If she asks you about her chances with me, tell her they are pretty well better than a sure thing! I don't think the answer "No", could ever form itself in my mouth where Andy is concerned."

Jenny stood up. She was so tall and elegant she looked out of place in the hospital visitors' canteen.

"Let's return to her room. We've given the staff more than enough time to fuss over her. I want to be there when the consultants do their ward rounds."

When they entered the room, Andy was sleeping, so Miranda sat quietly by her bed, while Jenny went off to find a second chair.

Andy smelt the unique scent of Miranda's perfume and opened her eyes to look into those beautiful blue ones, crinkled slightly at the outer edges, and framed by immaculately mascara covered eyelashes belonging to her personal goddess.

"Hello there," whispered Miranda, smiling.

"You're still here?"

"Of course."

"Thank you, Miranda, but you don't have to you know, even though I really appreciate it. Where's Mom?"

"Looking for a chair. There must be a national shortage obviously."

"How are the twins?"

"Asking after you. I told them you were surviving. Would you like to see them? I could bring them in after school this afternoon, but tell me if you think that would be too much."

"I would love to see them. It seems the police are going to try and interview me early this afternoon, but I remember zilch about the incident, so I can't help them much. The officer coming in also says she knows me personally, I'm told. Who can that be?"

Miranda turned decidedly pink. "If it's who I think it is, her name is Sally McCarthy. She helped us out of a bit of a fix with handcuffs, and came into Runway to do a photo shoot with some models."

"Miranda! Did I hear you say handcuffs?"

"Hmm."

Andrea raised her eyebrows and a smile escaped. "Is there more to this story?"

"Much more, but you'd be wise to leave it for now. I don't want your blood pressure to shoot upwards."

"Never ask Miranda questions?"

"That's right, It's very sensible advice, normally. But you can ignore it later when we go home. You can ask me any questions you like, then, when you are a little stronger."

"Do I really live with you?"

"Yes you do, dear. We closed up your apartment. Your cooking boyfriend moved away to Boston. I do hope you aren't too upset. I can get him fired up there and insist he comes back to New York if it is what you want."

"No! I hope you are joking. Oh yes, of course you are! But there is so much I need to catch up with. Do you think you could ask Emily to come by this evening? I'd be so grateful. She'll set me straight I'm sure. I would call her, but I've lost my phone. "

"You have one at the house. I'll bring it in for you, and you can defy their silly rules and use it to call who you like. But don't believe a word Emily says. She is woefully misguided on most counts. "

"Miranda . . ."

"Yes?"

"Are you really on a sabbatical year's break?"

"Yes, though my big plans to redecorate the town house from top to bottom have been delayed a little."

"Why?"

"Because of you being in here of course. I need your opinion on all the color schemes and how we re-model the kitchen. So you had better hurry up and get well!"

Andy simply said "Oh!"

Even this development, that Miranda valued her taste in paint colours and wallpaper, was astounding. She crept her fingers across the bedcover and very shyly took Miranda's hand. The answering squeeze, and the gentle smile which met her gaze was like the sun rising. Jenny, pushing her way through the swing doors carrying two plastic chairs, noticed it and also felt its warmth. Miranda was here to stay, that was certain, and she would make Andrea better. The bang on the head might even deepen their love, if such a thing were possible. She had never seen two women so much in love.

Miranda stayed with Andrea through the lunchtime period, but slipped away before Sally McCarthy was due to come in to interview her. They had all become good friends, and had even gone clubbing together, but she wanted to leave Andrea to talk to her alone. She hoped that seeing her in this context, someone she had only met during the last three months, the period she forgot, might clear Andy's amnesia. If she remembered Sally, then it might help unlock all the associated memories. Jenny stayed in the room though, as a sort of unofficial monitor, and in case Andy's memory did return and distress her.

However, friendly as she was to the tall uniformed officer who strode into her sanctuary, Andy obviously had no memory of their ever meeting before. Sal was puzzled and rather alarmed by this, until Andy's mother quietly explained about the amnesia. Then she took a cheerful, no nonsense approach, somewhere between Jenny and Emily in briskness.

"Hey Andy, get with the programme! Don't you remember that night when you and I met at Fulton's, Miranda joined us and we then all went on to the Pink Geranium? Remember how you fell into her lap when you took all those pictures, and how she did the jive with my girlfriend?"

"Sorry, but I can't remember a thing after early June. Did we really go clubbing? I can't get my head round the fact that Miranda might have actually dated me."

"She's gone a bit further than that, girl! You'll have to ask her. Now about the mugging, we have some suspects we'd like you to identify, but without visual memory of what happened I supposed you can't. Do you remember what you heard at least?"

"Sorry, I can't remember anything about the incident on Monday. My mind's a complete blank."

"If I brought in an album of possible suspects' mugshots, might that help?"

"I suppose it might, or again not. I don't want you to have another wasted visit."

Don't you worry about that, Gal! Just get fit again, and we'll repeat the ladies' dancing club one evening."

"Are you telling me it was a lesbian club, a gay bar for women?"

"Yep, all as dyky as your gorgeous Miranda herself. She was like the Queen Bee, warding off all possible suitors for her pretty little princess."

Andrea just gaped at her, then smiled, "And I was there? You've got to be kidding!"

"Sure, you were there, taking pictures with the fancy sapphire colored phone."

This phone seemed to have turned up in all manner of awkward places. Even without remembering having owned it, she definitely missed it. Where was it now she wondered? Just one more question! It was definitely time to get some concrete answers.

Jenny heard her phone ping and stopped it guiltily, looking at the message. "It's your friend Emily. She will be here shortly. I called her because she gave me her number when I last visited. She says she's very keen to talk to you!"


	6. Chapter 6

A Bang on the Head Chapter 6

On hearing that Emily was on her way up, Sally decided she should get out of their way, and leave it to other folk to help Andy regain her memory.

"I'll check back in again tomorrow. What's the best number to use? Do you have a landline?

Andy replied without thinking with a long ten digit number, then repeated it again more slowly so the police officer could easily key it into her phone.

"Is this the house phone from your home address with Miranda.? See, you remembered that! Did you know it before?"

Andrea gulped and tried to rationalise. "Yes . . . I must have, but , no, maybe not. From Runway, I always used Miranda's cell phone. Oh this is so weird. How can I remember numbers but not events and people?"

"The only thing stranger than the human brain is the human heart," observed Sally, rather philosophically for some-one who wore a gun to work each day. She stood up to leave.

"Anyhow, I'll see you, kid, and don't worry. These perps will get what's coming to them, with or without your testimony. They've tried this on too many people now, and we're narrowing the search all the time."

"It would be good if you catch them promptly," said Jenny, rather tightly. "Andrea could have died." It didn't bear thinking about.

"Yes, Ma'am, Point taken. I'll keep you informed of any progress. Plain clothes are running an undercover op. in the Park over the next week or so, so we hope for results. Best of luck, Andy. Get well soon, and give my best to Miranda!"

Tall, strong, and experienced as she was, Sally was relieved she had not had to encounter Miranda Priestly under these circumstances. She didn't envy anyone who felt that lady's wrath over what had happened to Andrea. She knew Miranda well enough by now to understand how she had the ability to make grown men cry without even getting a hair out of place.

Just then a noisy clattering of heels could be heard tapping towards them down the corridor. Andrea psyched herself up to receive Emily, as Sally slipped away. Her mother sat down beside her and passed her a glass of water.

"Don't let her tire you out," she whispered. Give me a sign when you've had enough, and I'll encourage her to make an exit. You'll have another set of visitors with Miranda returning with the girls very shortly."

"We'll be fine, Mom. Why don't you go outside and call Miranda, to see when she's likely to be here with the twins, eh?"

It was a not too subtle hint that she needed to talk to Emily alone, one which Jenny took, and with just a friendly nod to the walking fashion plate who had swept in, she left them alone.

Emily marched forward. "Shove over, I'm not sitting on one of those dreadful plastic chairs. They're probably covered in germs apart from being hideously uncomfortable."

Andy obediently made room for her on the bed and smiled. Her eyes looked weary and Emily made a mental note to herself to be nicer than her usual default position of trying to channel Miranda in the way she bullied Andy. It didn't really work to start with. Emily wasn't strong on bedside manners.

"Hi Sachs, a fine mess you've got yourself into! How do you feel today? You look ghastly, even worse than last night."

"Thanks Em. Nice to see you too. Glad you could find time to come by to cheer me up with your positive attitude!"

"Sorry. You have given us all quite a scare. I always thought this running lark of yours was a mistake, and I am certainly never going near any park ever again, let alone Central Park! I don't think trees are to be trusted."

"Em, we won't have long before Mom, and then Miranda and the twins will be back. I really need the full story from you, urgently. What happened over the last three months.? Why has Miranda been so lovely to me? What the hell happened? She keeps eluding to handcuffs! What is that all about?"

Emily looked dumbstruck at that. "Handcuffs? Sorry, she didn't spill the beans on that one. But I was off work for a whole week. She sent me home when I had a massive hay-fever attack. Miranda hates people sneezing. Did you know that nugget of information?"

Andy shook her head, rather worried if she had ever sneezed inappropriately.

"Anyway, when I returned, ten days later, she was acting weird, singing and looking happy, and we all thought she was having an affair, but no-one could figure out who with, (well Serena did in the end, but she didn't tell me in case I crashed her car)."

"Emily Charlton. You are talking gibberish. "

"No, I'm not. We all went to Provincetown, Miranda, Serena and me, we were tracking her down, and then we accidentally booked into the same inn, and Miranda confronted us, and I thought I would die, because she caught me and Seri in bed together . . . "

"Whaat?"

"Well not in bed exactly because I got up to answer the door, but anyway eventually we discovered that the secret lover was you! You had been with her all the time having hot sex."

Andy's face said it all.

Emily nodded, "Yes, unbelievable, isn't it? Miranda has obviously lost her mind, but we can't go there now. But since then, you and she, well . . . she made a public announcement at her going away party, which you, Nigel and I organised, that you had agreed to marry her as soon as her divorce to Sweaty-pants is completed, and when it's legal of course, and she was bunking off for an entire year just to play around with you, and redecorate her kitchen.

"The world has gone completely mad. But Nigel is now temporarily Editor in Chief, I am promoted to Art Director, and Runway isn't anything like the crazy terrifying place it was a few weeks ago.."

"Anything else I should know?" asked Andy faintly, well aware of the understatement.

"Yes, we do still love you, despite your appalling cheek in making off with Miranda. So Nigel, Seri and I have decided to club together to buy you a new IPhone. We thought it might jog your memory to have some photos on it, ones you took of Miranda."

"?"

"Yes, it was when I told you to shadow her to see who she was dating, and er, a few more she took of you. I am genuinely sorry they all turned up on Irv Ravitz's desktop by accident. "

Emily switched on the phone she had hidden in her pocket and handed it over.

"Wow."

Emily sat closer co they could both see the photo roll. The collection of Miranda's pics were as captivating as Emily remembered them. She was glad now she had never deleted them, but hidden them away in her own files. They showed Miranda's beautiful face lit up with fun and laughter, and at times, definite lust. Andy took in a breath.

" They are lovely, But, you had these, how?"

"Mea Culpa, I'm afraid. But it's a long story. Now I want to warn you about the later ones. I think Miranda took them of you while you were sleeping. You may want to delete them, but they do show off your beautiful hair. Oh sorry. That's a sore point I guess."

Andy gulped as she scrolled down. Even though Emily would never get a career in the diplomatic service, she hadn't lied. So Miranda had seen her naked, had snapped her sleeping in a totally provocative pose. No wonder she had kissed her earlier, and held her hand as if she had the right to. She felt overwhelmed, and totally unworthy. It made her horribly embarrassed that everyone else seemed to know more about their affair than she did.

And now, she was stuck in hospital, looking ghastly as Emily had succinctly put it, hideous more like, with no hair, and twenty stitches down the back of her head. She was completely hideous and Miranda would never surely still want to be in any relationship with her, let alone see her in any romantic way.

"It was very, very nice of you all to buy me this phone," she said politely, her voice dropping as she tried to stay sensible.

" No probs, we've all had pay rises since Miranda left. Here, the number and all the stuff you need to get online is in this bag." Emily pulled out an Apple paper bag containing the packaging and multi-lingual guide. "I've also put a few numbers in for you, Miranda, and Nigel, and mine and Serena,"

Andy's shoulders began to shake. " She'll never. Miranda will never want to love me ever again. It seems I had her, I actually had her, and I lost her. And I can't remember even kissing her. Emily, help me here . . . " and she felt herself burst into most inconvenient tears.

Emily sighed dramatically and pulled Andy towards her so that she could lean against her rather small bosom while she sobbed it out. "You're making a bloody wet mess of my dress, Sachs. Here, have a tissue."

She couldn't think of anything more comforting to say. Andy was right. Miranda had widened her aesthetic tastes astonishingly in the last few months. She had seemed unfazed by Andy's complete kooky approach to clothes, and general demeanour, her horrible tendency to say what she thought at all times, and her puppy like ability to fall over unless physically restrained, but this latest turn of events would no doubt swiftly bring their boss straight out of her midlife crisis. For once Emily completely empathised with Andy's despair. No way, given the chance to gently withdraw, could she see Miranda pursuing this crazy relationship, not with a girl who looked like a Hallowe'en costume on legs, and who had no memory of anything she had done to please her, or what she was even like in bed.

It was lucky for Emily then that Miranda was not present to see or hear any of this. She was fully engaged in the town house looking for envelopes to wrap up her daughters' home-made get well cards, both completed with enormously extravagant collages and multiple tissue paper enhancements.

"The point of a get well card is to stand up next to the patient's bed. These are so top heavy, they will fall over and knock Andy out again!"

"But we needed them to be special, to tell her how much we love her. Can't you find a big envelope to put them in? We don't mind sharing one."

"You know Andy probably will look a little strange at first. You mustn't stare too much. The hospital has cut off her hair because it wouldn't fit under the bandages, and she is stitched up at the back like a teddy bear."

Miranda was trying to prep the twins for what she was already used to, seeing her lover resemble an accident victim, which was of course what she was. Andy's current physical appearance was completely irrelevant to her, but she knew how sensitive the girls were. Eventually she found an old A4 envelope, the cards were packed up inside, covered in writing and dozens of xxs, and they were ready to roll. She remembered Andy's old work phone as well, and scooped it up. Roy, like the trojan he was, had promised to take them up to the hospital and was waiting at the door.

Jenny had walked back into the private room to find Andy still in tears, and Emily rapidly running out of her small supply of the milk of human kindness. She was pleased to hand her friend over to her mother's care, so awkwardly kissed her again, and patted her hand, before clattering away on her four inch heels.

"I'll let Nigel know, " she said, enigmatically. "We'll stick by you, don't worry. You can even share with Seri and me for a while after you leave the town house."

"What on earth is that girl talking about?" demanded Jenny, handing her daughter another tissue, and reaching for a damp facecloth as well, " and why has she made you cry?"

"She didn't. She just told me how much Miranda and I had done together, and now, of course, that will all be over, without me remembering anything about it."

Andy could hardly control her tears, she felt so completely miserable.

"Nothing's over! What nonsense! Now stop those tears and let's brighten you up. Cass has just texted on behalf of her mother to say they are on their way up."

Andy sniffed, and smiled. "Miranda is hopeless at texting. She hasn't the patience and her nails were always too long." She took the face cloth and tried to repair the damage done by crying for ten minutes. "Her texts were completely indecipherable to anyone but me. They were almost in code, as you had to know what letters were to the right and left of the ones she was aiming for. I supposed I did have my uses."

"You need to get out of here and come on home to the town house," replied Jenny. "Then you'll realise just how much Miranda needs you! As soon as she arrives, I am going to talk to the doctors to see why we can't get you off that machine and out of bed. I am sure we can look after you just as well at home, and this place is obviously getting you down."

Miranda came in with two shy little girls behind her, and was immediately alarmed to see how distressed Andy had been, despite her trying unsuccessfully to hide it.

"What's that foolish girl been saying to you?" she demanded, and then without waiting for an answer, she pulled Caroline and Cassidy forward. They took one look at Andy's bandaged head and both promptly burst into tears themselves. They had never been inside a big hospital before, and the whole experience already had unnerved them.

Andy made a supreme effort to minimise their distress. "Now, now. I know I look frightful, but I'm on the mend. Nothing to worry about kiddoes, nothing at all. Come here and give me a hug!"

They both bounced as close to her as they could, and she realised they were behaving much more affectionately towards her than before, even though they had liked her the best of all Miranda's assistants.

Miranda was also surprised and a little taken aback by the intensity of their reaction, more than even she had predicted, but she could see it was all due to the fact that they loved Andy very, very much. For a ten year old, there wasn't a huge difference in seeing someone concussed and wrapped up with drips and wires, and fearing the end was nigh.

"Andy is much better now," her Mom chipped in. "Why don't you talk to her, while your Mommy and I go and have a talk to the doctors. I don't see why we can't get her home tonight. We can always pay to get a nurse to come to the house to check up on her dressing. Wouldn't that be the best idea?"

"Oh, yes, please, " pleaded Andy to both the older women. " I don't feel sick any more and I haven't thrown up for at least two hours. I want to get out of this bed, and be able to pee again."

Miranda handed across the large white envelope she was carrying. " Here, darling, look at what the girls have made for you. Jenny and I are just going in search of someone who knows what they're talking about round here. Of course, that could take a while, but we promise we won't leave you at the mercy of these terrors for long."

"Not terrors," protested Caroline. "We're little treasures," added Cassidy, "and we love you so much, Andy. You just have to get well and come home as soon as you can. "

Andrea was lost for words, the girls were both cuddling her, and mopping their tears up as they spoke. She was glad Miranda seemed as business like as she always had been.

"Come and tell me all about school. What did you do today?"

"Well, you know we have different teachers for all the different subjects now and we are starting things like dual science modules, whatever they are."

"Wow. Impressive."

"I had my first cello lesson today. You have to think hard to work the fingering and the bowing at the same time" chipped in Caroline. "I'm using the school cello until Mom decides whether I'm committed to it enough to buy me one."

"Committed, eh?"

"Yes, it means you really love a thing, like Mommy is committed to you."

"Oh, Caro . . . "

Andy was frightened the tears would come again. Jenny pushed Miranda firmly out of the door, saying,

"Good girls, Just keep Andy happy, won't you? We are both going to see how soon we can get her out of hospital. We won't be long."

As they walked to the doctors' station, she whispered to Miranda. "Let's get her home to your care. Tonight. She's imagining all sorts of things while she's in bed, not least that there's no way you can possibly love her like this. "

"Yes, let me get her alone, then I will convince her I love her.. But she holds all the power now. I've decided it's the only way forward. I know I am risking everything, but It is entirely up to Andy where we go from here. I just want her well!"

"Doctor! Hey, Doctor, can we have a word please?" Jenny caught sight of a white coat, and pulled Miranda after her as she ran to catch the wearer up. Andy was going home that night, she was determined..

In the end it was quite simple. It took their combined strength of mind and powers of persuasion, but Andy did get released from her monitor, her drips and her catheter by the end of the evening. Miranda took the twins home to bed, but returned late in the evening to scoop up her ' young companion' as the doctor euphemistically called Andy. A visit from a nurse and a mental health specialist was promised for the morning, and Andy was placed in a wheel chair for the long trip out to the car.

Roy was as helpful and as faithful as ever, and more or less carried Andy up the steps into the house. After he left, and Jenny went upstairs to check on Cara and the girls, Andrea and Miranda stood in the hallway and gazed intently at each other, reverting to one of those deep silences which had marked the course of their earlier unspoken courtship. Eventually Miranda said softly.

"We have made you up a bed in the den. I don't want you even to think of climbing the stairs yet."

"I understand," whispered Andy, sadly.

"I don't think you do, This is simply the way it has to be while you are still concussed and poorly. I'm not allowing you to do anything which might risk your recovery. But afterwards, if you still can't remember all the fun we have had, all the love we share, then you and I will start again.

"My feelings won't change, but I am dependent on you to lead the way this time. We are just going to have to make new memories, but they will be the sort you want, we'll take it in the direction you want, this time. I'm not just taking a sabbatical from Runway, I'm also giving up any ambition of being a bossy-boots dragon in our future together."

"Oh Miranda, do you mean . . . that you will let me try again, you won't be sensible and tell me to get lost like Emily said . . ."

"Emily! When I get my hands on that girl I feel like boxing her ears. She had no right to make any assumptions about what I will or won't do. Every previous insight she has had about me, and about us has been completely wrong."

Andy fell silent. She felt so tired, so overwhelmed, but so relieved. She let Miranda undress her and tip her into the comfortable bed made up in the den. She fell asleep immediately so had no awareness of Miranda quietly putting a pillow and blankets on the floor beside her. There was no way she was letting her darling sleep downstairs on her own.

Tomorrow would bring what it might, but tonight Andy was home, safe beside her, and that was the only important thing. Miranda lay down, did a few Pilates stretches and prepared to fall asleep herself. Andy had only been in hospital for one night and two days, but it felt like a month of separation. She never wanted to go through anything like it again.


	7. Chapter 7

A Bang on the head Chapter 7

Five days on from her release from hospital and Andrea Sachs began to feel less like a zombie and more like her old self. Her Mom Jenny had stayed for the entire week, encouraging her and entertaining her while she was under Miranda's strict regime of concussion therapy. This consisted of her virtually living in pyjamas, being frogmarched back to bed whenever she felt like taking a walk upstairs, fed frozen yoghurt and autumn raspberry sorbets by spoon like a baby, and having her head, neck and shoulders gently massaged with the most beguiling of organically perfumed body butters. It wasn't exactly punishment, any of it, but she still felt as though she was living someone else's dream.

Miranda had done loads of online research about helping concussion victims regain their well-being and memory, and had added her own twist to the advice. A community mental health nurse had also visited with a wodge of suggested reading, but then advised her against reading too much, so that wasn't altogether helpful, but over a few days Andy's headache had softened into just a slight tenderness. Miranda finally showed her, by using a hand mirror and the large one in the front hall, that the gash on the back of her naked head was changing from a flaming red scar into an thin line of stitches.

"Couldn't have done better myself," murmured Miranda on the Friday morning, as she took off Andy's dressing for the last time. She had a slim silk scarf in her hand which Andy recognised somehow, but couldn't remember seeing Miranda wear before, and wound it round and round Andrea's head so cleverly it looked purely like a fashion accessory. It was in golds, and reds and brought out the depth of her deep chocolate eyes.

"You'll do, "finished Miranda. "I'll let you get dressed properly this afternoon, after your Mom's gone, if you promise me faithfully not to set a foot out of the door."

"As if," smiled Andy. "Looking like this, I'd scare the people in the street half to death."

"Of course you wouldn't," replied Miranda. "You might just feel faint, or slip, and we can't have that."

"You're being so lovely. I don't understand how you can, when I look so horrible."

"Please don't be an idiot, Andrea. Do you think for one second it matters to me how you look right now, when you and I have flown to the stars together. I love you to infinity and beyond".

"Don't tease."

"I am not the teasing type, am II?"

"Hmm, not sure. I do know you are the bossy type.."

Andrea's father had hoped to come in from Cincinnati himself, but the case he was prosecuting, all about patents fraud and financial malpractice, which was his speciality, was dragging on for much longer than expected and would run all of the following week. He called her though on Skype more than once, and she enjoyed chatting for short bursts with him, then was astonished how easily tired she became. Her brothers and sisters also emailed and skyped her, and amused her with cartoons and jokes. Miranda made sure she was tucked up in bed by ten each night and she slept through until eight each morning.

Miranda had adopted a mid-way path between their earlier boss-minion relationship, and the " white-hot can't keep your hands off lovers" coupling of late, so as not to push Andrea too soon, but it was hard going. She had such a physical addiction to the girl, she found it quite a discipline to go back to the former ways.

But she wanted to see some colour coming back to her cheeks and the headaches go completely before she tried to tell her all that had passed between them. Besides, she knew Andy had always rather liked their spats over work, and mini scuffles, and provoking her also kept the sorrow over her hair at bay. So she did boss Andy somewhat as she nursed her, helped her bathe, silently massaged her shoulders and tenderly rubbed her head. For now, it was enough, a starvation diet, but enough. Having Jenny there to confide in, and discuss their lovely girl with had been a great help.

Andy had no idea, until her mother quietly told her just before she left for home, that Miranda spent every night sleeping beside her on the floor, whisking away the bed clothes early in the morning, before she woke.

"You can't do that!" she protested, as they were talking, having just waved Jenny off to the airport in the Runway car with Roy.

"Sshh, Of course I can, and did. I have slept on a pile of newspapers in my time. So no more telling me what I can and can't do. I wouldn't have slept for a minute upstairs for worrying about you. "

"But I am so much better now. Can I sleep upstairs myself in the guest room, and let you go back to your own bed?"

"It is our bed, you know."

Andy dropped her eyes in embarrassment. She still could not remember ever sleeping with Miranda. It seemed far too glorious to be real.

"Do you really want to sleep in the guest room?"

Andy's reply was no more than an embarrassed whisper.

"No."

"So?"

Andy had been thinking long and hard about what Miranda had said about leaving it to her to take the initiative in restarting their relationship. She wanted to do it right. Even though she trusted Miranda when she said she loved her, she wanted to take each step very carefully. She wanted to be a lover worthy of Miranda, not some half healed amnesiac waif seeking refuge from the world in her house. She solemnly put her hands up on Miranda's shoulders and gently pulled her in so their faces were close together without actually connecting into a kiss.

"Miranda, it would be a huge privilege if you would allow me to sleep next to you, in your/our bed. I would feel so safe there, and we can maybe talk about things."

"Yes, honey. Of course we can talk. " Miranda's reply was kind and neutral in its response. "I am so glad you're coming round to the idea that we sleep well together. But trust me, I won't do anything to let you come to harm."

Miranda was obviously still thinking about Andy's fragile state of health, when she spoke, so sexual hanky-panky seemed off the cards for now and probably in her mind not to be even considered for several weeks. But for Andy, it wasn't her health which was the issue, but the huge challenge of actually being able to give pleasure to Miranda in bed. She could not imagine how she had ever managed to do that before, but yet she loved her so much, and she could clearly see that Miranda loved her. It was all a real conundrum, but one she hoped she could still solve by speedily regaining her memory.

In the evening after her Mom had called to say she was home safely, for an hour they played cards with the twins, and the little girls had to remind her how to play even simple games like Rummy, Whist and Racing Demons. Andy knew Miranda was trying to revive the old games to limit the time the girls played on their tablets, and also include Andy in non- frightening family conversations. Miranda was no fool, but neither was she, and she appreciated all this gentle therapy.

"Come on Andy, you taught us this game! You were so good up at Provincetown."

Andy still could not even imagine the happy times they all talked to her about in their cottage by the sea in Provincetown.

"It sounds lovely," she sighed wistfully.

"It is. Mommy, you must take Andy back there soon. She's bound to find her lost memory up there. Why don't you? We can stay here for school and Cara can sleep over to look after us."

"Yes, I will, Bobbsies, when she's just a bit stronger. We are working on the house decorating down here though first. Andrea is helping me choose colours."

Cassy giggled. "Then we'll have an orange hallway and a purple kitchen"

"Cassidy Priestly, apologise to your . . . ."

"My step-mom? My other mommy, my Andy? I know. Sorry Andy, but you do have some weird ideas about what goes with what."

"We love you Andy, but sometimes I think you see colours different, like Cass said. " added Caroline. "That scarf you're wearing is very pretty though."

"Everything your Mom gives me to wear is lovely," readily smiled Andy. "I love this scarf, though I wish I could remember where it comes from."

"Maybe it's time for me to tell you," murmured Miranda. "Later, in bed, how does that sound?"

Andy looked across the table into her sapphire blue eyes and nodded. Good things, good things were alluded to in Miranda's sultry tone of voice. She watched as she dealt another round of cards out for Gin Rummy.

"Last hand girls, then it's time for bed," she said as she shuffled the cards. Like so much she did, it showed an experienced dexterity.

When had Miranda learned to be a card shark? Andy then also noticed one small change in her appearance from the days when she had obsessed over her boss in the office. Miranda's nails were no longer red talons, but smooth, gentle ovals, cut and filed quite short. She remembered with a gulp someone in college years before commenting on a bad lesbian porn movie, "No way are those girls lesbians. Look at the length of their nails. Gay women never have long nails."

"Oh my god, " thought Andrea, drawing her own conclusions about the connection between Miranda's changed manicure and their own hidden relationship. "Did she do that for me? So as not to scratch me? Ye gods and little fishes."

Somehow the implications of this small thing made her realise the enormity of the changes in their relationship which had happened. She had a small mental conversation with herself.

"Am I pleased?"

"Of course. I am too excited even to think about it."

"Do I want that again?"

"You bet. She is everything in the world to me. I adore Miranda."

"Then do something about it!."

"Your turn, Andy." Caroline nudged her.

She looked at her hand. She had two Queens and a run of three hearts. She was determined she was going to capture all the Queens and win the game. She discarded the five of clubs, and picked up from the pack. Yes! The queen of Hearts looked up at her. She was on the way back to Miranda!

"I do feel a little sleepy," she said casually. "I think your Mom's right. We should make this the last hand for this evening."


	8. Chapter 8

A Bang on the Head Chapter 8.

The gentle musical chime of the French clock on the mantelpiece struck ten. Miranda came back into the living room, and walked over to where Andrea was sitting, browsing through the paint charts they had shortlisted together for the room.

"They are both fast asleep," she sighed. "My little girls. I can't believe how much they've grown this summer. When we were in Provincetown you took them to buy new shoes and they had gone up a whole size in two months.

" We did have a wonderful week up there. You met their father Geoff, and before then I told you the sad and sorry tale of my mis-spent youth. You and your Mom, you were both wonderful to me. You helped me get through it all, remembering and reliving what had happened."

She circled the chair and leaned over behind Andy, to see what colours she was perusing, putting her hands on her shoulders, and lightly kissing her scarfed head..

"Don't mind Cass. She is such an imp. I think you have wonderful taste. "

"Oh, Miranda, don't tease. I am getting more sensitive to colour, but I know I don't have the gift you have. You have impeccable taste, in everything, really."

"Well, if we are having a mutual admiration society here, I will defer to you. You chose me. I think that showed wonderful judgement."

"I chose you? How did I have the nerve? All I remember was worshipping my boss from afar, well not afar exactly. I used to stand as closely as I could, partly because I had to, in order to hear your power whispering, but also because I could breathe in your perfume. You have the most wonderful perfume."

"Will you believe me when I say I wore it mainly just to entice you in? You, with your fresh little hint of Adidas sports deodorant, invaded my whole sense of who I was, and challenged my rightful place at the centre of the universe. You knocked me sideways."

"No!" Andy was genuinely astonished.

"Oh yes. That was why I was so horrible to you. You just wound me round your little finger. I felt like Gulliver tied down on the beach by a thousand tiny wires. It happened almost as soon as you walked through the door that first time. I panicked. I tried everything I could think to get released, but as the months went on, I just sank deeper."

"What kept me sane was some knowledge inside that you felt something too, not like a silly crush for a boss. Most of my assistants go through that until they come to their senses. No, the connection we had went much deeper. You were often close to tears of frustration with me, but you were never frightened. You would speak your mind. You managed to look me in the eye. You saw me. We used to sometimes just stare at each other lost for words,"

"I remember that. I also remember having wild fantasies about all the things I might do to you if I ever had the chance. I remember that day when you told me to go get a comb and sort my hair out, that I looked as though I'd been pulled through a hedge backwards. It's after that that everything goes completely blank."

Miranda came round and squeezed next to Andy on the chair.

"That's encouraging. I well remember the incident. I wanted to grab you by the hair and take you off to my cave! It happened a whole week after the twins' birthday, which means your memories are slowly expanding forwards."

"Oh, it's so frustrating! It's driving me mad, not being able to remember . . our first kiss, and our second. I bet it was amazing."

Andy sighed, and put her arm round Miranda to stop her toppling off the front of the armchair. Miranda smiled. Her smile made her resemble a cat, and Andrea felt like a saucer of cream about to be consumed. Wow, the woman was so sexy, without even really trying.

"Well, we could perhaps have a little historical re-enactment."

"Miranda." Andy turned sideways, so she was less than an inch from Miranda's beautiful profile. "O.K., you say I chose you, but how did you get me started? You will have to teach me. I feel so completely out of my depth. I have seemingly lost all the confidence you say I had before . . . Can you show me how to kiss you, please?"

"Andrea Sachs, are you flirting with me?"

There was a little silence, and then Andy grinned.

"Of course."

"Well, then . . . "

Miranda put up just one finger and gently tipped Andrea's head back. She dropped the lightest of kisses onto her half open lips, and then seemed to melt into the softness with a deeper, thirstier kiss which enveloped Andy's whole being. It was completely magical. Andy never wanted it to end, but the lack of oxygen finally broke their connection, and Miranda withdrew, her breast heaving.

"My God, I've missed that."

They stared into each other's eyes.

Miranda murmured, "I know what you are about to say."

Andy raised an eyebrow in a query.

"Your little catchphrase. "Wow". "

"Yes, you're right, as always. Wow, in fact double Wow. Please kiss me again. I really liked that. I think I'll get the hang of it again eventually."

So Miranda did. She virtually fell forward off the chair, and ended up kneeling in front of Andrea, who put her hands on either side of her face, and positioned herself so they could kiss as easily as possible. Miranda's kissing was like the fluttering of a butterfly's wing against her mouth, but then it deepened, and deepened again until she felt drawn down into a swirling circle of arousal. Miranda was obviously hungry, ravenous, for more. They stayed like that for several moments, then, "Let's go up to bed," said Andy.

"Are you sure? You know if we do, in spite of all my best intentions, I think I won't be able to stop myself . . . "

"It doesn't matter, because this is my show, remember? You said I could take the initiative, and I suddenly feel all the energy and power I need to exercise that right. This is us, in our new relationship, I want to show you, wonderful woman, just how well I can make love to you."

"But your head . . ?"

"You'll have to be the one pinned down to the bed, I'm afraid. I'll stay on top."

Andy pulled Miranda to her feet and almost frogmarched her from the room. They turned off the lights and slowly climbed the stairs together. Miranda had lost her normal cool efficiency. She looked flustered, which Andy loved to see, and her eyes were becoming wild. By the time they reached the bedroom door, she was almost hyperventilating. Andy stopped her entering her room and embraced her in the doorway.

"From here on, this is my show. All those spoonsful of sorbet and gentle massages might be your scene, darling, but I am ready for some more serious lovemaking here. Are you up for it?"

Miranda simply chuckled.

"That's my old Andy coming back. I knew you wouldn't be gone for long."

"Remember, though I have no idea what we did before. I am flying blind here. You just excite me so much, I can't imagine why I have no memories."

"Then, like I said, we need to make new ones. Over to you, sweetie-pie."

"Sweetie-Pie?! Let's have some respect here. Get on the bed now! Where is it? Oh, over here, well lie down Miranda Priestly and prepare to be ravished."

Andy pulled back the covers and pushed her loved one back onto the pillows, then noticed a pair of Betty Boop pyjamas tucked under the covers.

"Whose are these? " She demanded fiercely. "Who have you had in this bed?"

Miranda laughed, the lovely musical laugh Andy adored. "Yours, you. You are the person who has slept in this bed and invaded all my spaces for the last three months. And it looks like my peace and quiet is going to be disrupted again."

"Hmm. I do like those pyjamas, but we won't be needing them tonight."

Andy tossed them across the room, and began to arrange Miranda as she wanted her in the bed.

"Just be a good Miranda and lie still. I need to work on my technique here. Don't move! If you do, I might lose all my confidence and abandon the attempt. "

Miranda obediently lay still. She was still fully clothed, but Andy, her head bound up in her gold and red silky head scarf, began gently but firmly to disrobe her. She removed her shoes, and reached up her legs to take down her stockings, then slid her out of her skirt. Miranda, annoyingly was wearing a full-length slip, so more exploration was needed. A silk blouse had to be removed, and then Andy paused to start kissing her round her wonderful collar bones and across her porcelain neck.

"Hmmm"

Miranda began to quiver and struggled involuntarily.

"No, please stop! I am the one in charge here. I am still gearing up to cope with all this gloriousness. If you can't keep still, I will have to tie you up, with your own scarf here."

"Ah!" Miranda's protest was without words, but Andy got the message, and knew she was on the right lines. Miranda liked it hot and hard.

She stripped down Miranda's slip to reveal the delicious curve of her belly, and then unfastened her bra, pulling it out from under her. Miranda had firm full breasts which were fully aroused, her nipples hard with obvious passion. Andy felt her own surge come from her innermost core in response. She could not resist any longer, but simply pulled off Miranda's underwear and then placed her hand up between her legs. By now Miranda was soaking wet and moaning. She opened her legs for Andrea's hand and her mouth to receive a confident and dominating kiss which took away her breath and quashed any more vocal commentary on their games.

Andy went into automatic pilot and brought her mistress up to the point of orgasm with a practised coordination. As Miranda writhed and whispered sweet nothings quietly against her mouth, Andy knew she just had to have done this before, over and over again, even though she couldn't remember it. It felt so natural, so perfectly right.

"I am Miranda's lover. I can do this," she thought to herself, as she gasped, "And my God, we both love it, we really do. This is wonderful, life-giving passionate sex."

A naked Miranda was panting under her, bucking against her hand.

"Again? Would you like some more, Sweetie-Pie?" asked Andrea stressing the nickname in fun, and caught Miranda's struggling arms with her own, scarcely able to stop herown pounding sexual excitement.

"What do you think?" whispered Miranda. "Don't stop, Please! "

When they eventually subsided, she said, " That was divine. I could go all night. I just worry about you. You've been so poorly."

"Me, I feel invincible. I made Miranda Priestly have an orgasm within two minutes of hitting the sheets! I am a demon lover!"

"No my darling, you are an angel. Now, how would you like me to make love to you, you little wonder woman? Unlike you, I do remember exactly what you like!"

"Hmm Show me then. Remind me."

"Bit tricky being underneath you. Strip off all those clothes, though and I will show you just how good we are together. "

Andy raised her body up, but still pinned Miranda down by sitting firmly on the top of her legs. She put up her arms and lifted her top, very slowly, then provocatively undid her bra and pulled it down off her breasts. Miranda just drank in the beauty of the picture in front of her. Then she put up her hands and tenderly drew a finger up and down each of Andrea's wonderfully full breasts and round her nipples until she shivered with pleasure.

"Your jeans zip is rubbing against my crotch. Please take them off. Pretty please. Then we can relax."

The wicked expression on Miranda's face and what she was doing to Andy's breasts were anything but relaxing. But Andrea smiled sweetly in return and slowly rose up until she was standing up and stripped off her jeans and underwear as requested. She stood above Miranda, naked save for the scarf, , and without her long hair she looked like an amazon princess primed for battle.

The room was deep in shadow around them, with just one low lamp burning. Miranda turned to her side so she rested her head on her bent arm and simply beckoned Andy to lie down beside her. When she did, Miranda disarmed her warrior princess by gathering her into her arms in the sweetest of embraces and gently kissing her into oblivion.

She was the tenderest but also the most beguiling of lovers. Andy felt herself losing control of her hormones, her blood started to course through her body as if on fire and when Miranda slipped down the bed to kiss and lick her belly and then the soft silky hairs round her crotch, she gave up all pretence at running the show or calling the shots. She came in a shower of starlight, and completely submitted to Miranda's tongue, lips and hands as they continued to weave their magic.

It was very late when they finally turned towards sleep. Miranda had nudged Andy over so she could lie spooned behind her, cuddled against her back, and then started one of their favourite games, which was drawing imaginary pictures on each other's back, which the person in front had to guess. She had been dropping kisses up and down Andy's spine. Then she drew a picture frame across her back. In their usual sexual gymnastics this was a regular cool down exercise.

"OK," said Andy, "What's this?"

"Don't you remember? It our art gallery game. Guess what this picture is."

Miranda sketched something rather complicated with her finger nail. It tickled delightfully, but Andy had no idea what the image was supposed to be.

"Don't know. Something fat sitting in what seems a box. With a cloud over it."

"Not bad at all. It's a bear with a sore head."

Andy gave a little laugh, and turned to draw Miranda's body against her breasts. They lay entwined together.

"Goodnight my darling. Thank you for being my lover."

"Did I pass the test? Was I as good as before?"

"Of course you were. You are the sexiest thing on two legs. I adore you. The first time though we were somewhat constrained by being handcuffed together."

" You keep mentioning that. When am I going to hear the whole story?"

"Oh, maybe soon. For now, just love me. I'm so very happy you feel better. "

"Goodnight Miranda."

"Goodnight Andrea."

"I think egg-shell blue and snowflake grey might be the answer for the living room."

"Hmm. All right."

"I love you."

"I love you too."

"Night . . . "

Miranda had fallen asleep. Andy lay for a while looking into the dark before following her. Her immediate past was still a mystery, but her immediate future looked full of promise. She fell asleep dreaming only of Miranda, gently floating before her on snowflake grey and silver clouds against an egg-shell blue sky.


	9. Chapter 9

A Bang on the Head Chapter 9

Caroline Priestly, aged ten and a bit, was determined to show her commitment to the Cello. This meant some serious practising which even for a child who had as musical an ear as she did, initially involved a good deal of scraping back and forth up and down the same four or five notes, with a noise resembling a strangled armadillo fighting off an alien attacker.

By Saturday afternoon, Andrea, who was still under Miranda-imposed house arrest, thought any more of it would drive her mad.

"Darling I know it's not "Twinkle, Twinkle," but can we expand the repertoire just a little? How about trying Yankee Doodle?"

"I've got to keep going over these exercises. I have my second lesson on Monday. You don't have to listen. I can manage on my own."

"I have to be in here, because we are going to redecorate right through the first floor. I am emptying this cupboard so we can move it. The interior decorators are starting on Monday as well. "

"Oh well, sorry. If you're going to be my step-mom, you will have to put up with all this sort of thing. I'm supposed to be a gifted child you know!"

Andy stepped back to give her the full benefit of her laughter. Caroline was quoting the teacher who had interviewed her for the middle school at Dalton's. They smiled as they shared the little joke, but then Caroline said something which made Andrea's breath catch.

"Why don't you wear your engagement ring anymore, the one Mommy gave you? Don't you still love her like that? Aren't you still going to marry her and be our second Mom?"

Andy thought it was massively sweet the way Caroline, like Cassidy, included herself in the marriage package, but she realised that even though she had been brave enough to make really good passionate love to Miranda, the whole question of their life-long union still remained up in the air. Would Miranda actually want to marry someone who, let's face it, was currently rather badly brain damaged, and couldn't even remember being proposed to?

"I love your Mommy very, very much. Of course I'd want to marry her, but I need to get well first, and its not even legal for two women to get married in New York yet."

"But you should at least wear her ring. She'd like that so much and she'll be sad if you don't."

"I think I was wearing it when I got the bang on the head. They took it off me and gave it to your Mom for safekeeping, that's all. "

Caroline looked thoughtful. "Hmm, I'll be back in a minute." She put down the cello against the chair and ran off, calling, "Mom, Mom! Where are you? We need you in here now!"

Miranda came up from the basement. For once her hair was out of place and she looked, well, frankly tousled. She had been sorting out boxes downstairs. Andy looked up at her from her position kneeling in front of the den book-case, and wanted to violently kiss her there and then. She opened her mouth to say something, but Caroline jumped in and said, "Mom, you must give Andy back her engagement ring, the one you bought up in Provincetown, If you don't, someone else will marry her!"

Miranda wiped her hands on the duster she was carrying.

"Oh dear. We can't have that, can we? "

"No. Andy doesn't remember the first time you asked her, and I don't think we were there either, so you'll have to do it all over again, but I do think you need to be quick. "

"Woah, tiger. Calm down!" Andrea thought it was time she had a part in this conversation. "Your Mom and I will talk about all of this ourselves, in good time. She may not want to be rushed back into an engagement with a hairless ragamuffin."

"Your hair has started coming back. It is definitely more fuzzy than a few days ago. "

Andy remembered an old nonsense song, which she recited. "Fuzzy-wuzzy was a bear. Fuzzy-wuzzy had no hair. So fuzzy-wuzzy wasn't fuzzy, was he?"

"Silly old Andy, I do love you so much," sighed Caroline. "But worrying about all of this has put me quite off playing my cello, even though I am really committed to it, Mom. I think I'll go and find Cassidy. And you go and find the ring, Mom! You haven't lost it, have you."

"No, darling I certainly haven't lost it."

Caroline scampered away upstairs and the others in the room both shared sighs of auditory relief.

"I could still hear her downstairs, despite shutting both doors. "

"I know. It's like when my brother started the trumpet. Dad made him go out to the barn to practise. It will get better. At least she knows when she's not in tune."

"About the ring . . . I didn't want to rush you. Do you still want to be tied together with a ratty old woman the rest of your life?"

"What do you think?"

"Well . . . . "

"You must know I love you to the moon and back ."

"Do you? "

"My God Miranda! Come here, and I'll show you. "

Andrea had risen and caught Miranda's wrists within a tight hold. She pinned her against the desk, and before Miranda had even had time to put up any defensive moves, thrust both her hands up inside her pale pink Cashmere sweater, squeezing her breasts in what might be called a rather forward takeover bid.

Miranda took a breath just in time, before her mouth was invaded by Andy's wicked tongue, and her head tipped back, her eyes closed in surrender. She adored being kissed so spontaneously, and also having the tables turned every now and then when Andrea took charge. After the kiss finished, she was a quivering jelly of a woman. Had they been on their own in the house, the encounter would only have had one inevitable outcome, and the decorating preparations caused to be way off schedule for the rest of the day.

"Oh, where did you learn to kiss like that?"

"Er . . . I think it might have been from you? Maybe? "

"So who are all these other people lining up to marry you, according to Caro?"

"Oh, lots and lots of them, too many to remember."

"You've just taken my bra off. How did you manage that?"

"I have super powers in that direction. You can stay like that now for the rest of Saturday. I am confiscating it. The twins won't notice."

"Andy!"

"You can only have it back tonight if you pay me a forfeit."

"What forfeit?"

"Give me my engagement ring back, in bed, tonight, how about that?"

"Are you really sure?"

"Miranda, darling , I would like nothing better in the whole world than to be publicly married to you, but in a way it's irrelevant to how bonkers in love with you I am. You must know I would walk barefoot across the world just to hear one word from you, to hear you drawl out my name."

"Some girls are easily pleased. I have much more stringent demands."

"Like?"

"Like you letting me make love to you every day of the year. Like allowing me to feel you next to me in bed every night. Like being my soul-mate, my princess, my wife. But darling, let's talk some more. We never mentioned children, more children. You would make a marvellous mother. You already are a marvellous mother to the twins. I would love for you to be able to give birth if you want to, if we can figure out the best way.

" Marriage is also for life, it's such a serious step, and I have an appalling record in that direction. You could find marriage to me a terrible burden on you. I am not a very nice person when I don't get my own way."

"No really? I have never noticed!"

"Don't be horrible. You know what I mean."

"Miranda Priestly, have we or have we not already gone through this at least once? Tell me how you proposed the first time."

"We had just made love, and were cuddling in bed. You were wearing your Betty Boops. I, as far as I remember, was completely naked. There was no ring either. I bought that weeks later. It was all done very quickly. I just knew I didn't want you to get out of bed before you said "Yes." I sort of squashed you into it."

"Well, oh bra-less one, tonight why don't we have a re-enactment, how about that?"

Andy held Miranda tightly next to her and tenderly kissed her again. She loved feeling her naked breasts under the soft sweater. Miranda's flesh was warm and silky to the touch.

"Underwear is so over-rated," murmured Andy.

"Not at all. We had a highly successful edition of Runway, almost exclusively devoted to lingerie last year!"

"Stop arguing. You can kiss me back though if you like."

" . . . . . . "

"How did you manage to actually remove my bra?"

"Like I said, I have super-powers."

"Hmmm."

There was then a long silence, but quite a lot of physical activity in a very small space before they heard two sets of young feet running down the stairs.

"Mom, it's Saturday evening! Can we have pizzas for dinner? We're starving!"

And so family life resumed.

Much later, in their bedroom, Andy having taken possession of at least half the king-sized bed, was lying back on the pillows wearing her Betty Boop pyjamas. She had bought them for a joke, but they were comfortable, cotton, and sufficiently big for her that they slid off very easily. She realised they were a favourite with Miranda for much the same reason. Miranda told her very clearly how much she loved stripping her down to her birthday suit, but also unravelling her mental state of calm at the same time with wicked kisses and the most delicious touching. Andy was beginning to fully comprehend just how much they were seriously addicted to each other. Of course they should marry.

As soon as she could, maybe immediately after this weekend, Andy promised herself she would brave the world, take a taxi or get Roy to secretly take her, and go to Tiffany's to buy Miranda a ring worthy of her goddess status. Vast amounts of money had come into her account in recent weeks, emanating, she realised ruefully, from Miranda, but the least she could do with it was buy her a ring so they both had a symbol of their commitment to each other.

Goodness knows how long it would be before they could actually marry. Miranda's divorce from Stephen, or "Sweaty pants", as Emily maliciously called him, (and which Andy couldn't help but now call him in her mind as well) was taking for ever, and even then, the only place likely to be possible within the next twelve months would be Massachusetts. But a proper diamond engagement ring didn't depend on anything other than their love for each other. She knew in her heart Miranda would love to receive one and it should go quite some way towards calming her insecurities.

The object of her affection had just walked into the bedroom. Miranda's unsupported breasts were moulded enticingly to the inside of her cashmere sweater, as she had allowed Andy to play her game with her, and had not bothered to replace her bra. Andy had been right. The twins hadn't noticed a thing, but Andy's eyes had been almost bursting out of her face as Miranda had now and then provocatively swung her torso at her, making her breasts swing side to side. Two of them could play teasing games, she decided.

Andrea always gave her the courage to be truly sexual with her; the woman made her feel as raunchy and flamboyant as a youngster. It was wonderful to be this much in love when you were nearly fifty, to be so sexually charged you could stay awake all night like an adolescent boy. Miranda could not believe her luck to have such a life-affirming gift as an Andrea, who did actually want to lie with her and be her love.

Miranda disappeared into the bathroom to undertake her normal ritual of makeup removal and the application of various night creams. When she emerged, she was dressed in a blue silk robe, tied tightly across her breasts, and she began to take off all her rings and wrist watch and put them on the silver ring holder shaped like a tree which stood on the table beside the bed. Her hair was brushed back from her face, so her beautifully delicate bones were exposed to the world. Besides her Andy felt like a rough handed farm girl.

Miranda sat down on the bed, and slipped her robe back off her shoulders.

"You don't need to wear your scarf in bed," she gently chided.

"I know, but I like the feel of the silk. If it slips off later, then it will."

"Andrea . . . "

"Yes . . . . ?"

"Will you marry me one day?"

"I might do, if you let me see your breasts."

Miranda slid completely out of her robe and sat virtually naked next to Andy.

"You know I love just to gaze at you. You make a voyeur out of me."

"You can touch as well, if you ask nicely."

"I know. Please get into bed. I need to think about this."

"Is it a hard decision?"

"No, but I don't want to appear a push over."

Miranda lay down besides Andy.

"Push over? You push me over, over the edge!"

"So where's the ring?"

"Ah, you can have it if you find it."

"You mean . . . ?"

"Well, I don't see why I have to do all the work in this relationship."

Andy bent her head, put out the light and then started to look for her ring, hidden somewhere on Miranda's body.

She eventually found it and by morning she was wearing it, but her Betty Boop pyjamas would never be the same again.

"Cheap cotton," grumbled Miranda. "They needn't have torn quite so much."

"Is this how our marriage is going to be then, full of sex and violence?"

"I'll buy you some more. Stop complaining."

"I love you when you're cross. Ow!"

"Goodnight darling."

"You are very wicked, Miranda, you do realise that, don't you?"

"Yes, very wicked, and very happy. I am flourishing like the bay-tree."

"Hmm?"

"Goodnight."

"Night . . . . "


	10. Chapter 10

A Bang on the Head, Chapter 10.

Since Andrea had moved into the town-house with the three members of the Priestly family, Sunday mornings had easily become Miranda's favourite time in the week. On Saturday they usually had to do so much activity around the twins' various hobbies and extra-curricular classes, like swimming lessons and music, but on Sundays, things were very different. The twins were perfectly happy watching kids' TV in their rooms, lounging in their pyjamas, and fixing their own cereal breakfasts. They knew not to disturb the grown-ups till after 9.30. On Sundays Andy didn't even try to go for her early morning runs, (not that she was doing those again in a long while if Miranda had any say in the matter!) but would readily agree to lie in bed, warm and cuddly, and let Miranda simply enjoy having her way with her.

Andrea had beautiful curving lips, all the better to be kissed by, and a sexy body simply made for caressing and exploring. She was also wonderfully open to be tickled and even gently tortured. On Sundays, Miranda's gift for seductive sadism could be fully exploited. Now that Andrea was home from hospital, and confident enough to let Miranda do anything she wanted with her, these games could continue.

Miranda loved to set up little play-fights and bondage sessions, where she caught Andrea either by surprise, or grabbed her in a tight hold which demanded a plea for mercy to be released. She was also orally fixated on Andrea breasts and loved to suck and almost bite them until they stood up hard and proud.

This Sunday morning however, she just lay in their very large bed, and let Andrea pay her back for all her nips and nibbles. She was naked, as she so often found herself with Andy, for just as she had wanted to undress her younger lover, Andrea had an almost relentless desire to strip her body down, out of her various fineries, lacy slips and underwear, and out of her jewellery and even make-up. Her generous wardrobe of nightwear seldom seemed needed these days.

In their sessions Andrea often became wonderfully fierce and bossy, which Miranda loved, and could often almost frighten her into an orgasm. Her physical confidence on the soft-ball field or basketball court also translated into a sexual assurance which Miranda, for all her dexterity and seniority in years could hardly match.

This morning, she had closed her eyes against the glory of Andrea's kisses along the lower edge of her abdomen, her arms were pinned to the bed, and she was waiting to be taken into an even deeper state of arousal. As the kisses went south, Miranda could feel her own wetness start to flood the bed, and she had no choice but to simply open her legs to allow Andrea's mouth to possess her clitoris.

She moaned and begged for her to go deeper, and then screamed as she felt her explore and possess her entire inner core, licking and roughly bringing her into a complex climax. As this happened, her blood ran fast and hot, the world turned golden and she knew she was just Andrea's lover, pure and simple. She had no other meaningful purpose in life. She was a very sexual, very gay woman and Andrea owned her, body and soul.

Miranda's other roles, as devoted mother, fiendish employer, fashion icon, all faded away to nothing during those moments. It was incredibly liberating for a woman whose entire life for the last thirty years had been focused on either careering or parenting. Her marriages, whatever good points they might once have had, had fed her nothing whatsoever which had been carnally satisfying to her. For Miranda could freely and honestly admit these days that she was gay. She wasn't bi-sexual even. She was definitely very gay. She had been emotionally anorexic, and now she was able to be in love without any embarrassment or shame.

Her darling Andrea loved their sex; she was enthusiastic, completely uninhibited, especially once she had turned off the lights, and also full of fun and teasing. She was never whiny, never, ever, boring, and sometimes, as good at tickling and tormenting as Miranda herself. Even though her memory still had not returned, Miranda could see there was nothing to fear for the future. Andrea's love for her had not been diminished in any way, and now she was enjoying making love as if it was a brand new game. As long as Miranda made sure her poor injured head was protected, their games were safe.

Andrea finally fell back against the pillows, momentarily tired after bringing Miranda up into a second orgasm in fifteen minutes, and pretended to fan her face.

"Whew, sorry if that was too fast for you. I sometimes run away with myself."

She turned to lie sideways next to Miranda and gently brushed her silver hair back from her face. Miranda was fully occupied just breathing in and out and settling her thumping heart. She just stared into Andrea's beautiful huge dark eyes and then put her hand up to gently feel across the top of her head where a very thin shadow of new hair was beginning to grow.

Andy nestled down under her hand. "Will I be fit to be seen by Christmas, do you suppose? You know more about hair than I do."

"My beloved one, you are always fit to be seen! But I believe your hair will grow back strong and thick over the next few months. It is supposed to grow about five inches a year, more or less, so in four months you'll have at least an inch and a half of the growth you want. Even by the end of October you'll have a nice little crew-cut. Your hair was always so gloriously messy before. I adored it. I used to dream about it. But it will grow again, and you can wear it as long or as short as you like."

Miranda pulled Andrea slightly lower into the bed so she could cuddle her, and even rest her head on the girl's shoulder. She pulled up the duvet round their bodies.

Andy asked, "So do tell me about how we got together. Maybe I can remember if you remind me."

"It was the weekend of the Paris fashion reception at the French Consulate on 5th Avenue. You came with me, just the two of us because Emily had really bad hay fever."

"Yes, she said something the other day about you not approving of her sneezing."

"What nonsense. The girl was in a complete state of collapse, but I also had a secret scheme to get you on your own. I had such a passion for you. You were wearing a Chanel gown which set your tan off beautifully, and I dressed your hair for you, so it was lifted up off your neck. It was the first time I had had the excuse to play with your hair. "

"Wow. How lucky for me.. What were you wearing?"

"The Dior gold lame shift, with very little underwear! You had me in a state of almost uncontrollable arousal before we even left Runway. There was a heatwave all that week and the temperature was stifling. I managed to hold onto you for the first hour or two of the reception, and I could see just how alluring all the men and half the women there were finding you. But then you slipped away, to get food I suppose, and when I caught sight of you again, you were in a corner surrounded by at least six young popinjays, who were plying you with champagne and mentally undressing you. "

"How did you know that?"

"Because I was doing the same myself!. From that point I 'm afraid I completely lost the plot. It's a good job you don't remember, because I grabbed you and took you out of there so fast your feet could hardly touch the floor. I was so jealous of everyone who made you laugh, or even whom you smiled at. I said stupid things and made you justifiably angry. By the time Roy came with the car we were furious with each other, and I think we both slammed the car doors as we entered the vehicle."

"Wow. I have never lost my temper with you. You must have been horrible."

"I was, horribly in love."

"So then what happened?"

"I dragged you up to the Runway office, and when we reached your desk. I just lost control and kissed you so hard I almost swallowed you. But then a miracle happened. You kissed me back. You gave me as good as you got. It was like a battle for survival."

"So?"

"I had seen there was a pair of handcuffs on the desk, for a police themed photo shoot. I grabbed one cuff and clicked it round your wrist. I never wanted to let you go. But then you had the absolute cheek to do the same to me. We ended up shackled together like convicts on a chain gang."

"So that was all the stuff about the handcuffs! How hilarious.!"

"Yes, I was telling your Mom about it when she first came to stay, and recounting it did make it sound like a farce. But it wasn't altogether hilarious at the time. I was like a bitch on heat and you were half terrified, half as aroused as I was.

"It was funny though, because the first thing I had to do was take a pee, and poor you, you had to come with me into the bathroom behind my office. We had to do everything together. But then we sort of realised we liked doing everything together. You were so sweet, you fed me chocolate until I behaved better, and we wrapped up our hands in a scarf and carried clothes to hide the handcuffs.

" I think we got away with it in the car. Roy gave us some funny looks, but he took us home under cover of darkness. By then I realised I could have you next to me in bed all night and that was all that mattered. I brought you up to this bed, and we stripped off together, then you forgave me for my appalling behaviour in the nicest way possible."

"You took my lesbian virginity I suspect. None of my previous crushes on women had ever progressed beyond the fantasy stage. Was I any good in bed?"

"You were divine. You gave me the sweetest orgasms all night long. By morning I had half killed you I think. Neither of us could move without some pain, and your wrist was badly enflamed and purple with bruising."

"That's where I remember the scarf! You tied up my wrist with the same scarf I've had on my head, didn't you, darling?"

"Yes, I wrapped it round and round your poor wrist, and tied it using my teeth. You remember!"

"I just had a flash of memory, of your head bent over my wrist and how sexy I found it!"

" Then we are getting there. Your memory is going to slip through back into its rightful place very soon."

"Miranda, how did we escape?"

"You had the bright idea of calling on the services of your friend the police officer and she got us out. They were fake cuffs after all, with a slip mechanism to release them. We made it through without anyone other than Sal knowing."

"So we have been together since? How gorgeous."

"Yes, a lot more has happened in a short time, but those are stories for another telling."

"I adore you, Miranda. I adored you from the moment you first stared at me in horror at my outfit, and I will love you till I die."

"That won't do. I will love you far beyond death. You are my soulmate, funny though it might seem. I certainly wouldn't want to go to any heaven unless you were there right by me. "

"I love your ring. Thank you for it, and I want to give you one, even if I have to spend a bit of your own money. I was going to do it alone, but now I really want you there with me. Will you let me take you to Tiffany's this week and choose a ring for you to wear. I want to see on your hand as well, that I belong to you."

"There's no need . . . "

"Of course there is. As Caroline said about me, I don't want to risk losing you to all the people who envy me for what we are to each other."

"Yes, love, then I will come along with you. It will be a privilege."

"Tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow the decorators start. How about Tuesday?"

"Very well."

"Miri darling,"

"Hmm?"

"I can hear Caroline starting to show us her commitment to the Cello again."

"Yes. I can as well. I think we should get up and take both our daughters out for breakfast."

"What a good idea. You are letting me out of the house at last."

"Yes. My story telling abilities have been exhausted for now. Just know this one simple fact, Andrea. I love you. You are the sunshine of my life."

"How long before my memory comes back, do you suppose?"

"Not long now. Just be patient and we'll get there soon."

"One more chapter?"

"Two at the most."

"OK."


	11. Chapter 11

A Bang on the Head Chapter 11

Miranda prided herself on being a woman with a strong grasp of planning for the bigger picture, for whom a small domestic project like redecorating one's four storey town house would normally be child's play. However she seemed to be losing her sense of perspective this time round. She sat at her kitchen table on the first Monday the decorating work team were due to move in, clutching a large mug of legal stimulant and felt the whole challenge might be completely beyond her.

"What is happening to me?" she argued with herself. Throwing out her destructive marriage to Stephen, falling in love, violently and irrevocably with her twenty-four year old female assistant, coming out as very gay to the whole world, tossing her professional life into a carpet-bag and stuffing it into a cupboard for a year, reigniting all the pain of her childhood abuse and unhappiness, - every one of these events had been unplanned and life altering beyond understanding.

And now, the one slender core of pure gold through all of this, her beautiful, intelligent and sensitive Andrea, had suffered an act of such brutality she had actually lost her memory of these events, the support she had given to Miranda and all knowledge of what a fragile, battered woman she had taken on.

Andrea looked up to her as an icon of decisiveness and vigour. She knew she did. She was well aware that part of her attraction for Andrea was her dominatrix tendencies, and quasi- spiteful sarcasm and "ice-queen" bitchiness she had grown used to wearing to work each day. It had even become her trademark for God's sake, and it was a classic Lesbian role model trope. But Jenny, Andrea's mother, had seen through it the moment they met, and Andrea, too had discovered it was tissue paper thin, and as easy to melt as a piece of chocolate.

In fact, that was one of Andrea's most effective disarming techniques, one she had used the first night they had come out to each other. The brave girl had merely fed her a 50cents bar of milk chocolate, and followed each piece with a kiss, and the collapse of all Miranda's metallic armour had been accomplished. As Andrea had pointed out, she was a pussy cat underneath all that fire and fury. She could still scratch, but they both knew it was no more than a tickle in reality, one that Andrea seemed to genuinely adore. Miranda actually abhorred violence and infliction of pain, having had too much of the real thing before the age of ten, but a frisson of anticipation was still fun.

However, a week after it happened, Miranda realised she still had to come to terms with her own shock and trauma over Andrea's attack and injuries, her personal shock which she had been able to bury since the first day by being almost efficiently kind and caring and getting Andrea back on her feet. Andrea had bounced back wonderfully on the surface, her joie-de-vivre and merry sexuality were back in full swing, thank God, but she still couldn't remember.

She couldn't remember Provincetown, how Miranda had broken down, how she had told her all about the childhood events which explained so much of her adult behaviour and phobias. Would Andrea still want to make them a life-long partnership if she knew all about those? Miranda knew she probably would. She did know how much Andrea loved her. What she felt acutely vulnerable about this morning was her own ability to simply sweat the small stuff, like the current domestic chaos. Why had she even had the crazy notion of redecorating the town house?

Jenny had warned her that her breakdown in Provincetown wouldn't be her last, it was the start of a long-term healing process, but the last thing Miranda wanted was to burden Andrea's slim shoulders with carrying her while she was trying to heal her own brain. She sipped her coffee and tried to steady herself. The twins had left for school and Andy was in the shower. "Get a grip," she told herself firmly, but it didn't sound convincing.

Cara, their housekeeper and in fact one of her steadiest and most sensible staff members, strode into the kitchen having distributed dust sheets and laid protective cloths all along the hallway floor. Her first words provided the obvious solution.

"Miranda, it's going to be impossible for you to live here all day while this disruption carries on. Andy needs peace and quiet and the smell of paint and plaster dust will do her no good at all. Why don't you whisk her up to your cottage on Cape Cod? I'll take very good care of the twins until the weekend. They'll be out at school during the day all week, and then isn't their father collecting them to take them to their grandparents on Long Island for the weekend?"

"Well, yes. In fact that is just what Caroline suggested herself. You are a genius, Cara, if you don't think it's an imposition to leave you with all this mess."

"Hmm? Where is Miranda and what have you done with her?" snorted Cara. "Andy sure has been rubbing politeness cream into your joints lately! We have changed my job title to household manager for a reason. So that's what I'm here for. And you would normally be gone in September anyway, wouldn't you. Over to Paris for the fashion week around this time?"

Miranda nodded, forgiving Cara her cheek. God knows she had snapped at her unfairly enough in the past, and she did agree with everything her housekeeper said. Maybe the name of the month, and the turning of the calendar was part of why she felt so fragile. September had always been the start of the fashion year, and not leading her entourage to Paris this year, was tilting her whole known world off its axis. She had to come to terms with the effect on her professional hormones this must be having, on top of everything else. Miranda then remembered as well, she was due for a period, which meant Andrea was as well, as they had already fallen into a synchronicity on that, due to the weird communal biology of fertile women who lived together. She now knew she had a logical excuse for feeling close to tears.

"Yes, that's what I'll do. I'll take Andy up to Provincetown in the Porsche for the week. You keep the Lexus to transport the girls about town. Bless you Cara. What would I do without you?"

"You mean what would I do without you and this job? It keeps me sane while Mike is away in Iraq, and watching your crazy life is better than a TV Soap. And anyway, you know I'm always here for you."

They looked at each other with mutual respect and simple friendship. Cara and Miranda, women of similar ages, but different in every other way except perhaps a rough childhood, though the facts of Miranda's upbringing was unknown to Cara. Then the doorbell rang on the service entrance and Cara hurried back down the corridor to receive the decorating team.

Andrea ran down stairs at that moment, making a rueful face. "Where do we keep the tampons? I've started. I always used to be regular as clockwork on the last few days of the month."

"Ah, you keep me company these days in this as in so many things, my love. I'm due any day as well. Look, I've just had an idea, well Cara did really. If you can face it, I think we should go away for a while, just the two of us. Cara will run the show here, and I want to take you somewhere quiet, out of all this disruption and dust."

"What about the girls? I think I should be here for Caroline when she comes home from Cello lesson Number 2, and I promised Cassidy I'd read with her this afternoon."

"Oh yes, we certainly won't leave until we've seen them home from school, and you know getting out of New York is hell between 4 and 7. I thought we might have a night drive. Cara is sleeping over for us, but she'll need to go home to fetch her things first."

"Where are we going?"

"Back to Provincetown, to the cottage. You really love it there. We both do."

Miranda sounded a little wistful in spite of herself and Andy picked up her mood. She came to her lover and wrapped her in a gentle hug.

"It sounds divine. My only plan for this week, apart from you know what, was to take you to buy an engagement ring."

"Andrea, " Miranda sounded a little hesitant.

"Yes? Please don't stop me. It is as important to me for you to wear my ring as it is for me to wear yours."

"No, I absolutely want to do that. But I had a Cartier diamond for my first engagement ring, and a Tiffany one for my second. I should sell them both and donate the proceeds to a good cause! I will obviously never wear either of them again. So this time, I'd like to do something different. Can we go instead back to the little jewellers' shop in Provincetown where I bought your ring? They may even have one to match. Would you humour me on this?"

"Miranda, it's a lovely idea! You're a genius. Of course. And do we get to travel all the way in your lovely Porsche? Have I ever driven it? I'm sure I've wanted to!"

"Of course you've driven it. I intended to give it to you, but you were all for sitting firmly on your moral high ground, so you are just named on the insurance. But, no driving at all for you yet! I'm not risking it, not until the doctors give you the all clear."

Andrea might have pouted if she had been ten and had known how. But she wasn't a Priestly child so only sighed.

"OK. But's Provincetown is a long way for one driver. It must be a five hour trip."

"My clever plan is for us to go to bed with the children before 9pm, and then set the alarm for 3 am. I love the early dawn and the roads will be as quiet as they ever get at that time. We'll be there by 9 am and can then just chill out by the sea."

"It sounds magic. Thank you."

"This is for my sanity as much as yours. I can also amuse you on the road with the merry tale of Emily and Serena trying to track me down up there with my secret lover. Now go and sort yourself out with some tampons, and you'd better pack a box of those pesky things. They are in the cabinet next to the little chest in the bathroom. I suppose I should be grateful I still need them."

"Have you given the twins the Period talk yet?"

"They are only barely ten!"

"Kids start early these days. You need to do it soon."

Miranda looked surprised and a little shocked. "My babies . . . "

"Will soon be taller than you! Have that little talk with them Miri, and then if anything happens, it won't frighten them. Though, having been to Summer Camp, I expect they now know everything there is to know from the other girls during those dorm pyjama parties."

As she spoke, Andrea exchanged a gasp of realisation with Miranda. "Hey, I know they went to Camp! How did that happen? When was that?"

"While you and I were in the first throes of our affair. It is coming back. Your memory is definitely coming back, slowly but surely."

"Yippee Yoicks, as Doris Day would say. I'll start to pack for us both, but can you first tie my head up in another of your wonderful scarves? I just feel a little weird being bald in front of the painters."

Miranda did as Andy asked, choosing an emerald green and gold Hermes creation, which had never really suited her colouring, but which brought out the best of Andrea's still beautiful golden tan. She looked exotic already, but while they were upstairs Miranda sat her down on the dressing-room stool and made up her eyes.

She was just playing with her really, but neither of them had anything more important to do. The make-up session also kept them away from the work team down stairs, who had several days of preparation and scraping down to do before paper hanging and painting could begin. Andrea loved the feel of Miranda's fingers, smudging her eyeshadow, and the soft tickle of the brush as she applied a small amount of blusher.

"I feel like Cleopatra," she murmured, when Miranda had more or less painted her up to her satisfaction. "Do you think she had beautiful handmaidens to make her change from ordinary into beautiful?"

Miranda wasn't sure she would call herself a handmaiden. But at least Andy hadn't cast her into the aged nurse role just yet.

"If I have to come back as a handmaiden, then it won't be to anyone but you."

"I would do just the same for you, except that I have absolutely no skills to offer in this direction. I never really bothered with make-up until I met you. I never saw the point."

Miranda looked at Andy in the mirror and painfully tweaked both her ears, then did her trick of raising her right eyebrow until it disappeared under her front lock of hair.

"I know. I was an idiot. You don't have to say a word. Are you going to give me some lipstick to finish it off?"

"No. I am going to take you back to bed and kiss you senseless."

"Why, pray? to quote some-one I know."

"To punish you because you are a make-up moron."

"Oh well. OK. Just remember . . . "

"I know. But we can still play around, can't we?"

"Yes, Miranda, we can still play around."

In the end it was past two o'clock before they returned downstairs, and Miranda felt much better and more relaxed than she had earlier in the morning.

Cara had risked leaving the workmen and women unsupervised for an hour and had gone home to retrieve a suitcase full of clothes which she then unpacked in the guest room closet. She had heard the laughter and whispers coming from Miranda's bedroom, as well as the occasional squeal, and was pleased for them. She couldn't imagine what the women were doing all that time, and wasn't sure she wanted to know, but they were obviously crackers about each other, and her employer was happier than she had ever known her.

By the time the girls came home at 3.30pm their two Moms were ready packed, with the suitcase already in the back of the Porsche. Caroline's cello lesson had been a triumph apparently, and she had been upgraded to an entire octave now, and the full four strings. They all enjoyed a happy evening together, even though Miranda still procrastinated about the necessary talk, and the girls were enthusiastic about being abandoned for the rest of the week. They were genuinely worried that Andy couldn't remember more than the faintest hint of what had happened, and hoped the trip north would restore her brain cells into the right order.

"You must get Mom to do her skimming trick again. She made six bounces once across the water, three more than the rest of us!" urged Cassidy.

"And ask her to turn cartwheels on the beach. She's really cool at that," added her sister.

Andrea looked suitably impressed, because she certainly was. She had experienced Miranda's athletic abilities in the bedroom, but these outdoor gymnastics sounded even more improbable.

She stared hard at Miranda, daring her to confirm such a tall tale, but Miranda simply smiled sweetly.

Andy went into Caroline's room to kiss her good night, and congratulate her on the Cello lesson feedback.

"Do you think Mom will buy me one for Christmas? I really love it. The sound is like a tree talking to me."

"That's a lovely analogy. I'm sure she will, maybe before Christmas. Will you and Cassy be OK without us for a week. I know there is no WiFI up there, but we can talk on the phone every day."

"We'll be fine. We're used to Mom disappearing all the time. But Andy . . ."

"Hmm?"

"Ask her about the pebble on the mantelpiece. It is kind of special to Mom. It made her cry last time."

"Oh dear . . .why?"

"I don't know, but Granny Jen was there and she said it was good to cry, so we shouldn't worry. But I think it would be good if you knew why."

"Thanks honey, of course. I'll choose my moment though. Anything else I should know?"

"There's a painting I did while I was there, of the pebble and a jug of flowers. Could you bring it back please? I'd like to hang it up here."

"Sure thing. Goodnight darling."

"Night, Andy-mom. I love you."

"Love you too, and Cass."

Andy left the final round of goodnights to Miranda, having kissed Cassidy already and enjoyed looking at her new book about the cycles of the moon. They all went to bed, only leaving Cara downstairs watching the late news, and slept like logs. Miranda stirred in the night and went in search of tampons as expected, but otherwise all was peace and quiet. Tomorrow she and Andrea were returning to the Cottage, and the very thought of it fed her soul and stilled her restless spirit.


	12. Chapter 12

Miranda's clever plan about setting the alarm for the wee small hours and slipping away under cover of darkness worked like a dream, and they were on the freeway heading out towards Connecticut by 4 am the next morning with hardly a hold-up. Andy though was still half asleep, and soon settled back into the leather passenger seat unable to keep awake, despite feeling she should keep Miranda company.

Miranda though was pleased Andrea could sleep; she enjoyed driving her Porsche, and had always been a lark rather than an owl, so the early hours held no terrors for her. As the miles slipped away, occasionally she looked sideways at the slumbering figure beside her, her pretty head wearing a turban of elegant silk, but her body wrapped in a track suit and appalling fluffy socks pushed into dreadful cheap trainers. Miranda's heart felt hot with love just at the sight.

Then it almost missed a beat when she thought how close they had come to a catastrophe with Andy's bang on the head. The loss of memory still worried her a great deal, despite all her encouraging optimism when she reassured Andrea that she would soon be well. Maybe the memories would never come back, and supposing they did, but not in the right way? As Miranda changed lanes and put her foot to the floor, an icy- cold finger of fear crept its way unbidden up her spine.

Wasn't it really strange how Andy's amnesia had wiped out precisely the months they had been in a relationship? She seemed to have no trouble recalling every other time in her life. Was Andrea's sub-consciousness perhaps telling her that this relationship was a disaster, and would ruin the rest of her life? Miranda's old insecurities and fear of insufferable loss flooded through her mind, and she almost gulped with a suffocating panic.

She knew she was being stupid. Hadn't Andrea reassured her over and over that she did love her, "to the moon and back", but the darling girl, like every other human being, could have no idea just how needy Miranda was. If Andrea was to leave her, ever, how could she bear to carry on living? Only the knowledge of how much the twins needed and loved her would then stop her jumping off the top of the Elias Clarke building. By the time the inner city was well behind them, and they were flying along the turn-pike highway, it would be fair to say Miranda was in a right old state!

As the dawn light came up to their right hand side, and the clock turned towards 7am, Andy felt its warmth on her cheek, and cautiously opened her eyes. Miranda turned to smile at her, but Andy's antennae immediately picked up a signal that something wasn't right. Miranda was gripping the steering wheel with white knuckles, and there was a palpable tension in her body. Rather than crash in like a rhino through the undergrowth, Andrea took a sideways approach.

"When you get the chance, sweetie, could you pull into a service area? It's the period. I think I need the loo. "

Miranda nodded, and within ten minutes had pulled off the road and parked up outside a gas station. She leant back in the driver's seat and Andy could see she was physically shaking.

"Let's go in together for twenty minutes, grab a coffee, and then you can tell me about the giant spider which obviously just crawled up the windscreen."

But Miranda didn't laugh at her little joke, she just sat there, immobile, so Andy went round the car to the driver's side, opened the door and bodily hauled her to her feet. Then she embraced her lover in an all-encompassing hug, holding her tightly and rubbing the small of her back where the worst of the tension resided. She instinctively guessed at least what half the problem might be.

"It's OK, honey. It's OK. They didn't kill me. You didn't lose me. You've been so brave, all this week, and I realise now that it's been really so much worse for you than for me."

"Oh Andrea," was all Miranda could get out of her constricted chest. She knew she wasn't having a heart attack, just a stupid panic episode, but it still paralysed her.

"Mom said these moments would hit us unexpectedly, that we need to be prepared but not frightened."

Miranda went very defensive. "We? What's with the We? You're fine. Aren't you just here to nursemaid me in my pathetic weaknesses?"

Andrea looked fierce, but still felt extraordinarily protective of her lover. "We, as in "Us", as in a couple. There is no "Me" without You, Miri. You must know that. I wouldn't last a day without you, and don't pretend that's not the same for you. What we have is so special. One day they may write thousands of words about us. We'll be as famous as . . . Well I can't think of two women in history who loved each other as much as you and I do!"

Miranda actually then started to cry. Large tears rolled down her cheeks from her defiant blue eyes, and she buried her head against Andy's shoulder, partly in relief, and partly in embarrassment at not being able to stop weeping, even in the largely empty parking lot of a Denny's restaurant somewhere south of Providence, Rhode Island.

"I'm sorry. I just . . . I just thought maybe your memory loss must be because you sub-consciously can't cope with having such an old, crabby, horrible mistress dragging you down and depending on you for almost her whole happiness."

"My God, Miranda, just listen to yourself! Sweetie, that nonsense has to be your hormones talking dirty to you, time of the month blah, blah. I am going to dry your eyes with my hankie, and we are going into the restaurant where we will have very hot coffees and a large order of pancakes. Don't you remember how cranky you get when you're hungry? It's not the end of western civilisation, just a simple matter of too low levels of blood sugar."

Andy marched her into the restaurant and found them a quiet table in the corner where Miranda could just hide away from the other customers, and gaze out of the window. She said nothing while Andrea ordered their breakfast, stressing the need for really hot coffee, and a stack of pancakes, with butter and lots of maple syrup. She began to feel a tiny bit better. Andy was right, as always.

"I'm sorry," she whispered again.

"Now, Miranda Priestly brace yourself woman, for I am going to give you a little telling off. Don't you remember the first thing you said to me last Monday when you arrived at the hospital? "Stop always saying sorry" or words to that effect. ? Well, the same applies to you. I know I used to long for you just once in your life to apologise to me, for all your ridiculous demands and general sarcastic put-downs. But now, you have said sorry twice in the last ten minutes, and I never want to hear the word again. Don't be sorry, darling, for anything. I am the luckiest woman in the world, and that is all down to you. OK? End of lecture. "

Miranda just solemnly stared at her, freshly amazed at how lucky she was to have Andrea in her life, actually sitting at the table ordering pancakes for her, and briskly telling her off. The waitress brought their food and coffees, and then Andrea nodded at her as if to say, "Come on, eat up your breakfast, girl."

Miranda picked up her fork, and obeyed the unspoken instructions. After ten minutes of recklessly overdosing on carbs, she felt a new woman. Her eyes hurt from crying and she knew she must look a fright, but she was almost over her little breakdown.

"Why do I always forget? "She asked. "I should know I get like this if I don't eat regularly, especially this time of the month."

"Yes, Honey, that reminds me. I will see you shortly." Andrea slipped away to the toilets, and Miranda helped herself to the last pancake. Andrea had rescued her from her miseries, and she was back on an even keel. But she could recognise just how fragile were her emotions. She owed it to Andy to explain some of the reasons why.

In the end, the rest of their journey was fine, and Miranda did feel brave enough to explain just a little as she drove onwards, about her brutalised childhood and losing her mother so young. Andy absorbed it on two levels, the sadness of the story itself brought tears to her own eyes, which Miranda thought showed the ultimate in empathy, but also she could now understand Miranda's worries about having to share it all a second time. As they approached Provincetown, she encouraged them both to lighten up by thinking of silly ways in which she might regain her memory.

"If I was writing it up as a story, I might give myself a second dramatic bang on the head, which would suddenly bring everything back in a flash!"

"Well, perish that thought! I'd rather have you in a permanent daze than have you do any more damage to your pretty little skull!"

"Well, Ok, you think up a way!"

"You find a box of some mysterious medicine under an old pine tree, or in a sand-dune, which brings everything back."

"Or a bottle appears which says "Drink Me", like in Alice in Wonderland."

Miranda said, "Actually, I do have some faith in modern medical understanding, despite wobbling about like a jelly earlier. I think as your brain heals and all the swelling subsides, your memory will re-emerge naturally. We don't need fantasy tales of magic. It has only been a week after all."

Andrea knew they were back on good firm emotional ground.

"Tell me about our cottage, then. You said I chose most of the furnishings, so I'm rather concerned. You know what Cassidy thinks about my lack of decorating skills. "

"Nothing to be concerned about. You did a great job. You will love it. We'll be there soon. You'll see."

When they pulled up at the house, a little before 9 am, Andrea gasped at the sheer perfection of their little house by the sea. It was the classic New England beach cottage, painted white and blue, with weathered shingles and a dancing rainbow coloured windsock attached to a pole close to the main door. When Miranda pulled out the key and unlocked the door so they could enter, Andrea ran delightedly from room to room, absorbing the view of the sparkling bay from almost every window.

The house was built on the shore road, but high enough to be out of danger from high tides, protected by a bank of low dunes, which fell over themselves down to the sandy beach. Inside, she could see the comfy sofa and easy chairs, the pine table and dining chairs, the rag rugs and the red cushions she must have bought to warm the room up.

Miranda was already taking practical steps to give them some actual warmth against the coastal winds of September. She had brought a copy of the NY Times with her, and some firelighters, and was laying a fire in the wood burning stove, using the kindling and logs which were stored in the porch.

Andrea unpacked the small box of staples they had brought, eggs, milk, bread, coffee, and stowed them away in the cupboard next to the stove. The kitchen and living room were open plan, but the whole cottage was tiny compared to the New York Town House.

"And we were all here? You, me, and the twins? Just a few weeks ago?"

"Yes, running up to Labor Day, and your Mom bless her, she came too, over from Ohio, and my Ex, Geoff, so he could spend some time with his girls. He came later, as we only have three bedrooms. But we all had a special time. Now, how's that for a blaze!"

Miranda sat back on her heels, pleased with her efforts at fire-lighting, as one always is. The smell of wood smoke mixed enticingly with the salty tang from the sea.

"That will take any chill off the place. I am going to open up our bed to air it as well. I can't have you lying in damp sheets."

Andrea looked round and then her gaze turned to Caroline's very creditable watercolour painting hanging on the wall. As she looked at it, a very firm, clear memory came back to her of Caroline sitting at the table painting it, and Cassidy, Cassidy had painted horses!"

She didn't say anything, but ran through to the room she knew must be the twins'. She saw their bunk beds with brightly coloured duvets rolled up on each one, and yes, there was Cassidy's picture of horses galloping along the shoreline. She had copied it from a poster she had seen in town which was tacked up on the opposite wall.

Andy gazed at it, and remembered even more. Cassidy had been so excited when she had learned that the Sachs family still had an old pony left from Andy's childhood. He was now very stiff on his hooves, but he would love to take the girls for a ride. They had promised Cassidy they would go to Ohio for Thanksgiving, and she could get to ride the pony. She remembered more and more, as if a blurred picture in her head was slowly beginning to come back into focus.

She ran through and found Miranda in their bedroom. She recognised the large double bed with its saucy metal bedhead, perfect for tying one's lover's wrists up to maybe! And the merry patchwork quilt which Miranda was just folding back. She knew what it looked like. She could even recall which shop she'd seen it in.

"Miri, the memories, my memory, I think it's coming back! I can remember buying this bed with you. I remember putting up the twins' bunks, how they helped, how we all sat together playing cards . . . It's coming back!"

Now it was Andy's turn to burst into tears, but this time of simple relief and happiness. Miranda held open her arms and gathered her in.

"Oh, my darling," was all she said. "My love."

The day passed like the scudding white clouds which blew across the pale blue September sky above their heads. In the afternoon they walked together down the beach towards the town, hand in hand, and occasionally stopping for a kiss. Provincetown was such a gay-friendly, progressive community, there were no worries about homophobic frowns or sneers from strangers.

As they walked into town Andy could feel her memory coming back like pieces of a jigsaw, bit by bit, until she could piece together the edges of her recollections, if not all the central fragments. Their recent week in Provincetown was becoming sharper all the time. She remembered her Mom making almond cakes and cooking lettuce soup. She remembered Miranda's ex-husband Geoff falling asleep on the veranda. She remembered . . . "Elephants! You told me you once worked in a circus, making costumes, even for elephants!"

Miranda squeezed her arm and laughed out loud.

"Yes, I did, and you were very interested! When you organised that baby elephant visit for the twins' birthday I knew they intrigued you. Do you want me to buy you one of your own?"

"Like the Queen of the Nile? No darling, but I do think they are wonderful animals." She paused, and then smiled ruefully.

"There was always one in the room anyway, wasn't there, when I worked for you at Runway?"

"Yes, a big fat grey elephant glaring at me and saying, "You've got the hots for Andrea, haven't you Miranda?" I was always having to push past him just to get in or out of my office!"

"Darling Miranda. You are so funny. I love you, you know. Now let me see if I can remember where that charming little jeweller's shop was, somewhere over there? Let's go now, so you can choose a proper engagement ring."

And Andy led her goddess unerringly up the street and round the corner to the shop in question.

When they arrived back at the cottage, much later and laden with good things to eat for supper, the stove was still burning its fuel of driftwood, and the house felt warm and cosy. The longish walk had done them both good after so many hours in the car.

"I'll turn on the water heater but let's leave the central heating off for now. The stove heats the whole cottage, and I like a fresh feeling through the windows. The air is so different here compared to New York. "

Miranda felt completely better after her morning tizzy fit. She phoned the twins while Andy started to prepare supper, and reassured them that Andy's memory was indeed returning, cantering back to her like one of Cassidy's dream horses. "It was looking at your pictures, which really helped," she said to their delight. "She knew you had painted some horses, Cassie, and went straight into your bedroom to look. Then so much more memory returned."

The girls quizzed their mother about what else she and Andy had done.

"Andy and I walked into town along the beach. It was warm and sunny, just a bit breezy. Oh, and you can relax, she bought me a beautiful ring. I am going to wear it for the first time this evening. I don't think Andy is going off to marry anyone else."

" . . . . "

"Exactly. I think so too. I'll tell her. Bye for now, darlings. I can smell steaks on the grill. Just be good for Cara, won't you? I'll call again tomorrow evening."

Andy had cooked Miranda's steak just the way she liked it, and was tossing some mushrooms and shallots together to go alongside it.

"What did they say?"

"Oh, silly stuff about how lucky I am, to have you, all nonsense really."

Miranda stood so close, she was impeding the cook.

" . . . . . "

"Please don't put your hands up my shirt while I'm trying to plate up the food."

" . . . . "

"No Miranda, I simply can't concentrate, if you do that. Do you want your mushrooms burned?"

"Oh, very well. Yes, I know I'm good at multi- . . . . . tasking."

The actual presentation of the ring took place with due solemnity in front of the warm glow from the wood-burner much later, an hour after they had finished their delayed supper and were lying together on the hearth-rug. They were both wearing robes in soft towelling, which Andrea had bought a few weeks before, but which they had never had much chance to wear during the family activity based previous visit. Andrea had bought a CD player then, and smooth jazz, the sort she knew Miranda loved, was now providing a tinkling sound-track to a good deal of strictly adult activity.

They had rediscovered the very good bottle of Scotch in the cupboard left after Geoff's visit, and Miranda was playing a grown-up game she had just invented of sipping the spirit and then letting it release slowly with her tongue into Andrea's mouth. She had studiously kept Andy strictly sober all week, but now she felt she could let her get just a little tipsy. Andrea, after any alcohol, could become hilariously raunchy, and Miranda wanted to be raunched. She wondered idly if to raunch was an actual verb, but Andy's gasps and little moans under her mouth distracted her from any concerns of grammar or transitive verbs. She pulled herself up onto her elbows above Andrea's body, and straightened the soft and protective pillows she had placed under her loved one's head.

"How are the stitches? I don't want to hurt you."

"They're fine. Just a little itchy now. You have healing hands, darling. Oh, well, I didn't expect them to heal quite like that . . . "

Miranda took another sip of the scotch and poured it through her teeth down Andrea's throat, while her left hand pulled open the girl's robe and went on a delightful walk down between her thighs towards the soft skin behind her knees. The naked body below her fingers shivered, and Miranda shivered with it. She opened her own robe so they could lie together, breast to breast, with their hearts beating in exact time with each other. After quite a while, Andrea gently pushed her up and announced.

"I am now, in this august assembly, going to make my formal proposal of marriage to you Miranda Priestly. I don't know how long it will take to officially validate, but will you, divine Goddess of the Moon, take me, a humble mortal with no hair, but a pure heart full of love for you, as your wife, to have and to hold from this day forth?"

Miranda nodded. She felt about sixteen, and suddenly very shy.

"I will."

"Then please do me the honor of wearing this ring?"

Andrea took Miranda's left hand and slipped the white gold and diamond ring onto her third finger. It was the exact replica of her own ring, just a size smaller. The two rings winked at each other in the firelight.

"It's perfect," breathed Miranda. "I feel very . . . "

"Hmm?"

"Very cherished."

"That's good, because you are, very, very cherished, now and for ever. We are going to be all right, you and I. We perfectly complement each other. And we're committed."

"Like Caroline and her cello?"

"Even more than that."

"Yes, even more than that . . . . "

" . . . . . ".

"Did you know? She said playing her cello was like having a tree talk to her. Isn't that lovely?"

"Yes. . . . More scotch?"

"Why not, but this time, let me feed it to you instead."

"Oh yes. And Andy . . . "

"Yes, darling?"

"That elephant, he's finally left. He says he's gone away to stand in someone else's room, because we don't need him anymore."

"The townhouse does miss animals though, after Patricia."

"I am not buying Cassidy a pony."

"Haha. No, I understand. Where would we keep the hay? But how about a kitten? Just one."

"Your mother told me you were crazy about cats. What about all the new decorations though."

"We can teach it not to tear things up. It can go outside and terrorise the neighbourhood instead."

"A kitten. Just one? "

"Yes, just one. We can all go to the animal rescue centre together and choose one."

"I've never had a cat. I think I'm a dog person."

"Miranda. You're a lesbian. Wearing my ring proves it. And all lesbians like cats. It's part of the deal, virtually compulsory."

"Oh very well, when we go back, let's think about it."

"Good Miranda. Now how do you like your Scotch? Room temperature, or over ice?"

" . . . . . ".

The End.


End file.
